The Fledgling
by Mirkana Falcon
Summary: Involves a Pokemon researcher, an ex-Team Rocket member, and a baby Zapdos... *Complete!! Ch. 7 uploaded*
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokemon, never have, and never will. They are trademarks of Nintendo, Gamefreak, etc. etc. The purpose of this fanfic is NOT to profit from another person's idea. It's just for fun so. don't sue me, 'kay? ^_^''  
  
  
  
THE FLEDGLING  
  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 1-WHAT YOU GET YOURSELF INTO  
  
As the afternoon sun slowly began to drift westward, its light fell to rest on a lone figure making her way up the majestic peak of Mount Iron. Grunting, she pumped her long, slender legs, trying to push herself up the gradually rising slope of the mountain as beads of moisture on her forehead glistened in the fading sunlight. The pack on her back, which contained her equipment for the expedition, felt as if it were full of rocks. Sighing, she eased herself onto a flattened ledge to rest for a while.  
  
Rasha, a young Pokémon researcher who made her start in Kanto, daydreamed about her mission as she sipped her water. Mount Iron, located in Johto, resided an ocean west of her homeland. Besides different species of Pokémon, though, the two lands shared many common features in both its environment and its people, and Rasha felt at ease here. most of the time, anyway.  
  
Rasha twisted her pack onto her lap and searched for her water bottle among the various pieces of equipment stuffed into it. Shoving aside her camera, she finally slipped the bottle out from the bottom of the pile, uncapped it, and drank deeply, sighing when she finally pulled it away from her lips.  
  
If only Falcon were here! Rasha thought as she jammed the bottle into her pack and yanked the zipper back into place. This mission would've gone a lot quicker with her friend's expertise and experience to help it along - and besides, she would've enjoyed seeing Falcon again. Since they'd met at the Indigo League, near the end of Rasha's graduating year at Pokémon Tech, they'd kept in touch only through occasional letters and phone calls. As they watched the grueling League battles together, Rasha had been duly impressed by Falcon's general knowledge of Pokémon, but Falcon's vast range of knowledge on the subject of Legendary Pokémon enthralled her. Perhaps that friendship had played a key role in leading her here, she mused. For weeks before she'd arrived, a rash of legendary sightings had broken out among the residents of the towns near Mount Iron's foot. Excited by the prospect of encountering one of the mythical creatures, Rasha traveled out to try and observe one of the elusive beasts in the wild. But nearly a month passed, and still she had not encountered a Legendary Pokémon. Any chances of success were growing less and less likely.  
  
Knowing she'd better get moving if she wanted to search the mountain again before the sun set, Rasha slowly rose from her seat and turned to study the terrain in front of her. A main trailed for hikers wound around the mountain, but Rasha had left that long ago to pursue a more difficult path. Steep, dry rocks and sudden, random clusters of scratchy dead weeds slowed her ascent, but Rasha, as always, welcomed the challenge. Groping for a handhold, she struck out with her left hand to grab a jutting-out piece of rock. and put her hand in something wet and sticky.  
  
Jerking in surprise, Rasha flipped her hand back and forth to dry it off and was shocked into silence by the glistening drops of red that flew from it to spatter wetly on the dry mountain dust. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach now, Rasha held her hand up to examine it and felt her throat tighten at the dribble of blood crawling down her wrist. Swallowing her fear and nausea, Rasha carefully felt for a new spot on the rock and pulled herself up to examine the now-smeared red patch. Craning her neck, she spotted another clot of blood clinging to a dead weed that blew free not more than a foot above her. Still more created dark patches on the dirt and rock, forming a broken trail of blood leading up to a higher point on the mountain.  
  
Now Rasha hesitated. Should she go further and investigate, or mind her own business? She certainly preferred the latter; her insides vibrated with dread apprehension, and she longed for nothing more than to race down the mountain and back to her warm, quiet little house at the mountain's foot. But for all her fear, she couldn't dismiss the thought that she might be abandoning someone who needed medical attention. Swallowing and gritting her teeth, Rasha hoisted herself up to follow the path of blood.  
  
Once she climbed over a few more rocky obstacles, the ground leveled out into a relatively flat earth plane; her tired muscles welcomed the ease with which she could walk over it. As she studied the ground ahead, Rasha detected steadily growing spatters of blood, more black than red now. Her eyes swept along them and finally came to rest on a crumpled rag doll form huddled against the mountain's side. Wincing, she took the last few steps to kneel before the fallen person.  
  
The young man, who looked no older than 19 or 20, lay as if dead on his stomach. The dust had powdered his raven-black hair an earthy dun. Ages of dirt and grime covered his ragged clothing; Rasha couldn't see what color they had originally been. A large tear in the left leg of his pants revealed long, ugly gash that oozed blood. His shirt also displayed three long tears, which aligned with three more gashes that created dark pools on the ground beneath him. Gingerly, Rasha reached out with two fingers and pressed them into the soft flesh of his neck, where she felt his pulse racing so fast she thought it might burst his skin. Frantically, she unzipped her pack and yanked out a small first-aid kit. She lifted out a roll of white gauze and began wrapping it tightly around his leg, trying to stop him from losing any more blood. When she had finished, she lifted him up by the back of the shirt and wrapped up the wounds in his chest and abdomen.  
  
Now that she had done that, she faced another problem: how to get him down the mountain. She definitely couldn't carry him; she needed both hands to climb. Reaching down to the left side of her belt, she removed a small Pokéball and enlarged it. The Pokéball was white on the bottom, but on the half that was usually red it was colored with green and brown splotches: camouflage colors. Rasha tossed the Pokéball to the ground as she called, "Sudowoodo, come out!"  
  
A flash of light burst from the Pokéball. It stretched and changed shape before fading away to reveal a tall Pokémon that looked like a tree. Three fat, round green fingers tipped each of his branch-like arms. A two- pronged horn adorned the top of his head.  
  
"I want you to carry this man down the mountain, Sudowoodo," Rasha instructed, motioning toward the lifeless body of the young man. "Be careful with him!"  
  
"Sud!" Sudowoodo acknowledged. The tall Pokémon carefully scooped up the limp boy in his deceptively thin arms and cradled him like an infant, so his head flopped over the right arm and his legs dangled over the left. Rasha turned to head back down the mountain and Sudowoodo followed with his burden, moving with surprising surefootedness over the rocks.  
  
  
  
Slowly, his consciousness began to return. He wanted to just lie there forever, but something itched at the back of his mind, forcing his eyelids open. Everything hurt. Stifling a moan, he lay still and waited patiently for his vision to focus. Something was not right. He felt warm, but could not see the sun. The ground beneath him had softened, and blankets covered his body. With some effort he raised his head and lifted the blankets slightly, examining himself, and found that an oversize gray sweatshirt and white sweat pants had replaced his dirt-covered rags.  
  
Fear engulfed his being.  
  
He looked up at a soft sound by his head, startling its creator: a young woman with tanned skin and medium-length brown hair. His captor.  
  
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he cut her off quickly. "Where am I?" he demanded angrily. "What have you done to me?!"  
  
"What?" Rasha stammered, confused. Did he not realize that she was trying to help?  
  
The boy's dark green eyes narrowed down to dangerously glittering slits as he tried to prop himself up on the couch where he was lying. "What have you done?" he repeated. "Talk, woman! Where have you taken me?"  
  
Now Rasha's temper was shortening. "I just saved your life!" she snapped indignantly. What an ingrate!  
  
The comment didn't even faze him; he only glared harder. "I appreciate it," he growled, not sounding like he meant it at all. Rasha's temper flared. "I'll be leaving now." Wincing slightly, he tried to get up.  
  
"You can't go anywhere in this condition!" Rasha protested.  
  
"Watch me."  
  
The boy staggered to his feet, nearly falling over several times before he learned to shift his weight to his uninjured leg, and looked around for the door. Rasha stood silent, watching him. After a few seconds of pondering, he began to limp unsteadily across the room.  
  
"Where are you going, anyway?" Rasha asked finally.  
  
"Where do you think?" he snapped.  
  
Rasha's eyes widened. Had he injured this head? Was he really thinking about climbing the mountain? "You'll never make it like this," she informed him.  
  
"Mind your own business," he retorted. "I'll be fine."  
  
"You can barely walk down here! How do you expect to climb a mountain?" Rasha nearly shouted back.  
  
She was right, of course. He immediately felt his determination sink. He had barely gotten back to the cave after the Rhyhorn had finished with him, and then he had already been halfway up. There was no way he could climb the whole thing. He curled his lip in disgust at his own stupidity.  
  
"You brought me down here," he said after a while. "You take me back."  
  
"Forget it." Rasha folded her arms. "My Pokémon and I already carried your ungrateful carcass down that mountain. No way we're carryin' you back up."  
  
The boy angrily hissed through his teeth.  
  
"Stay until you recover," Rasha reasoned, her mouth moving against the protests of her mind, which was seething with anger for her ungrateful companion. Somehow, his anger hadn't derailed her pity. Besides, she told herself, anyone would have an attitude after getting mauled by God-knows- what up on some hot, dry mountain in the middle of nowhere. "After that," she continued, "you can do whatever you want."  
  
The boy's shoulders slumped, but he knew he'd struck a dead end. All right. he would stay until he regained his strength, but not one second more! Besides, he thought, getting her to escort him back up to the cave had been a foolish idea, anyway. If he waited, he could go back alone and remove the risk of discovery.  
  
With a sigh of frustration, he again looked down at his outfit. "Where the hell are my clothes?" he asked tersely.  
  
"Washing machine," Rasha told him.  
  
He hunched over like a vulture, eyes narrowing. "I don't need you to wash my clothes, woman," he groused.  
  
"And I don't need dirt all over my couch," Rasha countered. "You can have 'em back when they're clean."  
  
"Fine," he grumbled.  
  
"Good." Rasha paused a second before asking, "What's your name?"  
  
His eyes flashed and he turned away from her as if he knew she'd recognize him as a criminal if she heard his name-either that or his introversion's extremity forbade him even to allow her his name. Either way, he said nothing.  
  
"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "Unless you prefer to be called 'boy.'"  
  
"It's Logan," he snapped.  
  
"Logan," she said, testing it. "I'm Rasha."  
  
She extended her hand, but he backed away and eyed it as if it venom might seep from it and burn him. As she slowly lowered it and turned to exit the room, Rasha wondered if it wouldn't have been wiser just to leave him on Mount Iron.  
  
  
  
Approximately an hour and fifteen minutes later, Rasha turned off the dryer down in the dank laundry room.  
  
Logan was getting on her nerves. It wasn't however, what he was doing that bothered her; rather, it was what he wasn't doing. Ever since he'd woken, he'd been sitting on the couch in her living room like some dark, wraithlike statue, staring blankly out the window. She'd offered him food and drink, and he'd refused. She'd asked him if anything was wrong, and he'd snapped at her to mind her business. He barely responded to her efforts to make any other kind of conversation. Logan simply sat with his shoulders hunched and his dark eyes wide, like a hawk on a dead oak limb waiting for some movement in the rolling grass below.  
  
Rasha pulled the laundry basket down from the top of the washer, opened the dryer, and began dumping the clean clothes into it. The least he could do, she thought, would be to thank her for letting him stay. Okay, so maybe he hadn't asked her to help him. How could he? He'd been unconscious! Still, Rasha had saved his life out of pure compassion, and he had the indecency to treat her like an annoyance. So why did she still feel sorry for him?  
  
She was about to take the basket into her bedroom for folding when she remembered that Logan's clothes were mixed in with the pile and that he wanted them back. Sighing, she set the basket back down and began to paw through it, not sure what she was looking for. Those filthy rags could've been any color. Frustrated, she dumped the pile out on the floor and began to spread it out, shoving her own jeans and T-shirts to one side until she finally located something foreign: a torn white shirt, a pair of white pants, and a smaller black shirt that was torn the same way as the white one. She picked up the pants, folded them, and laid them aside before reaching for the shirts. The black shirt she folded and set on top of the pants. She then picked up the white shirt and flipped it over.  
  
On the front was a large red R.  
  
  
  
Logan sighed restlessly and ran his fingers through his dirty black hair. His stomach rumbled, but he hardly noticed - he didn't feel like eating.  
  
Shifting agitatedly on the couch, he peered out through the darkness at the spectral peak of Mount Iron, wondering how the Pokémon he'd left there were doing in their Pokéballs. He imagined them hungry and worried, waiting for their master to return, and swallowed hard. He had to get out of here! Not only he scare his Pokémon if he didn't, but he suddenly remembered that it'd been too long since he'd made a trip into town for supplies. Things up at the cave were running low.  
  
He sighed, wondering not for the first time how he could stand to live like he did. Before, there had been a time when he'd thought he was capable of anything; that he was invincible. Now, he couldn't even remember what that had felt like.  
  
He realized that he couldn't hear the dryer running anymore and knew that the woman, Rasha, must be getting his clothes out of the laundry. Snorting slightly, he shook his head. He wished she'd leave him alone; he had enough to think about without her hovering around him. Even as he thought it, a little trickle of remorse entered his mind, but he quickly forced it down. I didn't ask her to do this, he thought. I don't owe her anything. I don't owe anyone anything!  
  
His breath caught in his chest. With all his soul he knew that wasn't true, and he felt horribly guilty just for thinking it.  
  
Logan felt his throat tighten, but he hardened his glare and again turned his laser-focus toward the window with a single, determined thought: I'm coming. 


	2. Isaiah

CHAPTER 2-ISAIAH  
  
Her hands, which still held the crumpled shirt, dropped softly into her lap. The silence in the dank laundry room magnified the sound of Rasha's breathing. After a couple seconds, she slowly lifted the shirt in front of her face once again. The red R glared back at her.  
  
She'd let a Team Rocket member into her house.  
  
At first all she could be was afraid, but her fear quickly morphed into a crazed sort of anger. Throwing the shirt to the ground, Rasha sprang to her feet and began stomping around the room, searching for some sort of weapon; something she could beat him over the head with so she'd have time to call the police. She couldn't believe she'd put herself and her Pokémon in danger to save a Team Rocket member who didn't even want to be saved in the first place! How could I have been so stupid?! she screamed at herself silently.  
  
Almost bare of objects, the laundry room provided few options. Stifling the urge to scream curse words, she grabbed the best thing she could find: a full bottle of laundry detergent. Though unwieldy, its weight could cause some pain if she hit him on the head with hit. Gathering her nerves, she began to stamp toward the door.  
  
But before she could turn the handle she hesitated, relaxing her grip a bit on the heavy bottle. Rasha's mind insisted that she remove the danger to herself and her Pokémon as quickly as possible, but she couldn't help feeling guilty about attacking someone who was injured, even if Logan was a jerk and a thief. Mental images of his form when she had first discovered him on the mountain flashed back, flattening her anger a bit. Team Rocket member or not, something had really hurt him, and attacking him in this state wouldn't be fair. Besides, he hadn't done anything to her yet, she reminded herself. And it would've been different if he'd broken into her house with the intent to steal, but she'd brought him here without his knowing.  
  
Setting her jaw, Rasha slowly turned on her heel and plodded back into the room, setting the bottle back onto the shelf above the washer before kneeling down and picking up the white shirt, folding it, and placing it on top of Logan's other two pieces of clothing. When she had picked up the entire pile, she took a deep breath to steady herself and headed back out to the room where Logan was still sitting quietly, staring out the window.  
  
Rasha's loud footsteps startled Logan out of his thoughts. Looking a bit confused, he turned his head to look at her as she marched in carrying his clothes. Not knowing what to say, Rasha stopped in front of him and met his gaze with as cold a stare as she could muster. After several long seconds, Logan started to twitch. Finally, he said, "What?"  
  
Rasha's breath came out in a hiss as she tossed the pile of clothes to him. He snatched them out of the air with one hand, carefully unfolding them and laying them out on the couch. When he got to the white shirt, though, he paused thoughtfully and held it at arm's length.  
  
Logan stared at the R. It had been so long since he'd seen it that he'd forgotten about it.  
  
When he finally looked up, Rasha was heading out the door and into the bedroom.  
  
A strange sound from behind her made Rasha pause in the doorway. It took her a couple seconds to recognize the sound of dry laughter.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked wryly. "Isn't this supposed to be the part where you threaten me and call the police?"  
  
Slowly, Rasha spun back around. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.  
  
To her surprise, he seemed to consider that for a second. "Not particularly," he said finally.  
  
"Then don't tempt me."  
  
He cocked one eyebrow at her. "Sure you want to let me stay?"  
  
Raising her brow, she replied, "You don't seem like you're in a stealing mood right now, with those injuries."  
  
A corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a tight snarl-smile. He felt he should make some sort of remark, but couldn't think of anything really clever that wouldn't put him into an even worse situation. Rasha amused him: it was perfectly clear she didn't trust him, but her pity kept her from turning him out. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was a bit intrigued.  
  
Mouth set in a hard line, Rasha spun around and headed into her bedroom. The door shut hard behind her. With a grimace, Logan turned back to his window and tried to relax. He had a long night ahead of him to plot what to do next.  
  
  
  
Grunting and stretching, Rasha slowly opened her eyes to the morning sun glaring into her window. With a soft groan, she rolled onto her stomach and stretched hard before reluctantly throwing off her covers and padding in sock feet over to her dresser. Her morning self peered out of the mirror with bleary eyes and hair that stood up all over the place. Making a face, she yanked open a drawer and fumbled for her hairbrush, attacking the frizz until it finally lay flat.  
  
She remembered Logan while she was getting dressed, and wondered if he had even slept last night. With a chill, she received a sudden image of him prowling around her house while she slept, searching for where she kept her Pokéballs. Even though she made sure to lock the Pokéballs up before she went to bed, she had barely slept for worrying that he would try something. When she finished dressing, she trotted over to her bed, pulled a small silver key from under her pillow, and unlocked the very bottom left drawer of her dresser. Quickly, she counted the Pokéballs. She found all of them accounted for. With a sigh of relief, she scooped them out and set them on the dresser and dug around in another drawer until she found the belt clip she kept them in during the day. After she popped them into place, she selected a belt from her closet, threaded it through the loops on her jeans, and snapped on the clip. With her Pokémon where she felt they were safe from Logan and within easy reach, she felt more confident.  
  
After a slight pause to ready herself she padded into the living room, snapping on the light before she remembered that Logan might still be asleep.  
  
When she took a look around, she found out she needn't have worried. The room was empty. Nervously, she checked the kitchen, wondering if he'd finally gotten hungry, but she didn't find him there. By now she was already leaning on panic's verge. Rasha stampeded through the house, frantically trying to locate Logan. At last, she skidded back into the living room, her forehead beading with sweat. Logan had completely disappeared.  
  
"Okay, okay," Rasha told herself. "Don't panic. So he went back to the mountain. He didn't take anything, right? My Pokéballs."  
  
Rasha stopped short; her eyes glued to the kitchen where one cupboard door hung open just a crack. She had overlooked that before in her intent on finding Logan. She trotted into the kitchen and yanked the door open. The cupboard, which had been full before, was totally empty. With an angry, strangled cry, she opened the next one to find it empty, as well. Her anger boiling away now, she flew through the kitchen slamming open cupboard doors. Logan had stolen more than half her own food supply, plus several cans of Pokémon food.  
  
Trying not to scream, Rasha stomped back into the living room. Her fear transformed into pure, raw rage. As she stood trying to figure out what to do now, something lying on the couch attracted her eyes: Logan's Team Rocket uniform, folded neatly into a pile - which meant that he'd also run off with the clothes she'd loaned him.  
  
"Great!" Rasha snapped at the clothes as she bent down to pick up the blanket Logan had been using, which he'd left in a heap on the floor. "Real cute, Logan!" She stomped to the door and yanked it open with a bang. "Real cute! Real funny!"  
  
Once outside, Rasha ripped a Pokéball from her belt as she continued to mutter: "I'll show you, you ungrateful creep." Growling, she enlarged the Pokéball. It was white and black, with flames painted onto the black half. "Houndour!"  
  
White light spilled out of the ball and a small black Pokémon appeared. Houndour looked like a small Doberman, but less wiry and with a bony white plate on her head. She sniffed the air a couple times and turned to Rasha expectantly.  
  
"Here, Houndour! Find the person who was touching this!" Rasha leaned down and held the blanket under the Pokémon's nose.  
  
Houndour wrinkled her nose and sniffed the blanket thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she turned away and began snuffling along with her nose to ground. "Dourrrr!" she barked excitedly, bounding forward a few paces before turning back to see if Rasha was following.  
  
"Good!" Rasha said as she moved to follow her Pokémon. "That's good, Houndour. Lead me right to that thief."  
  
  
  
Houndour led Rasha up Mount Iron along the same trail that Rasha had taken when she'd discovered Logan the day before. His blood, still visible, had seeped into the dirt. Grimly, Rasha hoisted herself up onto the level spot close to where she'd seen him first, wondering what she would do if Logan had a weapon. If he only carried Pokémon she had a good chance of taking him, but none of her Pokémon could withstand a gunshot.  
  
All of a sudden Houndour stopped, and Rasha nearly tripped over her. The dog Pokémon had stopped next to an opening in the rock. Rasha peered into it. Quickly, she straightened up and pressed herself against the wall before looking in again, more slowly and cautiously this time.  
  
Logan was sitting cross-legged with his back to the entrance, his attention focused on something in front of him that emitted faint squawking noises; she couldn't see what it was, because his body blocked it from view. "Come on, Isaiah!" she heard him say. There was a loud squawk. "Aw, come on! Don't do this to me!" he fretted. "Look, it's good! See? Gooood formula! Aren't you hungry?"  
  
With a grimace, Rasha straightened up as she pulled a Pokéball for her belt. "Good work, Houndour," she whispered as softly as she could with a nervous sideways glance toward the cave. "Return." A red beam of light shot from the front of the ball, scooping up Houndour and sucking her inside. Rasha snapped the ball back on the belt clip.  
  
From inside the cave came Logan's voice: "What was that?"  
  
Rasha went totally rigid, holding her breath as she pressed herself, quivering, against the mountain's side.  
  
A few more seconds of silence, and then she heard Logan's offhanded chuckle. "I'm insane," he muttered.  
  
An agreeable cheep came from inside the cave, causing Rasha's ears to prick up. What's he got in there? she wondered.  
  
"Yeah, that's right," he told the cheeping thing. "I'm insane, and you are going to eat now, right? Here we go." The anonymous creature squawked indignantly. "Isaiah!" More clamor interrupted Logan's protests.  
  
Finally, Rasha grew impatient with waiting. No sound accompanied her venture into the cave's mouth. Logan didn't even turn around; he was so absorbed with what he was doing.  
  
At last, Rasha said, "Having a little trouble there, Rocket-boy?"  
  
Logan whirled to face the entrance; his black-emerald eyes threw sparks into the cool dark. That sudden movement provoked a loud sound from the unseen party. Rasha craned her neck to catch a glimpse of it, but he quickly threw a dirty blue blanket over it before she could see.  
  
Rasha advanced on him. In his surprise, he'd let slip all mask of composure, allowing her to feel confident as she approached. "I'll be taking back what you stole from me now."  
  
"How'd you get here?" Logan snarled, his voice husky and dangerously low-pitched, arms circled tightly around the struggling form under the blanket as he began to scoot back toward the cave wall. Every muscle in his body shook like a rebellious block of Jell-O. He looked like a shot fox.  
  
Rasha's roving eye swept over the blanket that hid Logan's angry, screeching hostage. "What's that?" she demanded, taking another step towards him.  
  
"Back off!" Logan hissed, his hand flying to his belt. For a second, Rasha's heart stilled - was he reaching for a gun? Instead, Logan's fingers clenched a red-and-white Pokéball. Rasha halted as he pulled his arm back threateningly, ready to throw, but now he only had one hand to keep the blanket over the little captive in his lap. A wrestling match broke out between the creature and Logan's hand. Baring his teeth, Logan turned his body slightly so that his arm partly hid it from her view. "Back off!" he repeated, with less force now that he was partly concentrating on the twisting form. "Or-"  
  
Zhoop! A fuzzy yellow head popped up over the crook of Logan's arm. Yelling in surprise, he frantically tried to throw the blanket back over it, but it was too late. The head popped up again; a long orange beak opened in a questioning peep as slanted black eyes peered at Rasha for the first time. Logan kept his dagger-cold gaze fixed on Rasha, but now she could see the sinking inevitability on his face - the look of a doomed fugitive, caught against a wall, his running at an end.  
  
Rasha couldn't believe what she saw as she stared at the insouciant yellow face peeping over Logan's arm. She'd seen it millions of times in textbooks. Though obviously young, lacking the tremendous power for which humans renowned its adult ancestors, there was no mistaking that face. The face of the very Pokémon she'd come here to study. The face of the legendary Zapdos.  
  
Rasha's amazement suddenly came crashing down as her glittering blue eyes met Logan's dark green ones. "How did you get this Pokémon?" was all she could say.  
  
Logan's answered simply: "I found him."  
  
"Like Hell!" Rasha screamed, the wall that held her temper bursting in an instantaneous explosion. "You just found a Zapdos chick on the ground and said, 'I think I'll take it up to Mount Iron and live it with there?' Why even keep it here, anyway? Why not just tie a frickin' bow around its neck and haul it off to your boss?!"  
  
"I didn't steal him!" Logan roared. "And I wasn't even thinking about taking him to Team Rocket! The only reason I'm taking care of him at all is because his parents are dead!"  
  
"Dead?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"And why does that matter to you, you stone-hearted animal?" Rasha shouted, veins in her neck bulging with rage. "You trying to tell me you actually care about this Pokémon? Care to explain why this one is so special to you, you sick, lying, miserable son of a-"  
  
"BECAUSE I'M RESPONSIBLE!" Logan screamed.  
  
Silence filled the cave. The baby Zapdos flattened his feathers and cowered against Logan's heaving chest. Coldness wrapped around the two humans like a blanket as their eyes locked into each other, their wills straining against one another in a deadly, silent struggle.  
  
At last, Rasha said, "You're responsible."  
  
"For his parents' deaths," Logan hissed, forfeiting the staring contest.  
  
Rasha's anger melted. Logan was a member of Team Rocket. someone who tore trainer and Pokémon apart without a hint of remorse, who destroyed friendships with as much sympathy for those he hurt as an earthquake has for the buildings it ruins. But here he had caused the deaths of two legendary creatures, leaving the little one alone, and you could literally see the guilt tearing him apart. Driving him into this cave with no one but the Pokémon. Forcing him to take upon himself the burden of raising the orphaned fledgling.  
  
"When I came in," Rasha said softly after a pause, "you were."  
  
Logan reached behind him and pulled out a small, old-looking plastic bowl filled with a brown liquid that looked like applesauce. "I was trying to get him to eat this formula," he said.  
  
"Didn't you heat it up first?" she inquired.  
  
"I didn't want to hurt him," he muttered. "Besides. I don't have any wood." Setting down the bowl, he grimly locked gazes with her. "You can't call the police."  
  
"Don't worry," Rasha assured him. "I won't tell anyone. But. could you use some help getting him fed?"  
  
Logan wanted to say no, but he forced himself to consider. One last time, he picked up the plastic syringe filled with formula and tried to poke it into Isaiah's beak. The little bird squawked and turned his head away, refusing the food; it was clear he wasn't going to submit easily. Although he told himself he still couldn't trust Rasha very far, maybe she knew some things he didn't about raising baby Pokémon. Maybe she could help him. With a sigh, he made his decision. "All right."  
  
Rasha smiled.  
  
  
  
The door to Rasha's house had been left open the entire time she'd been gone. Quickly glancing around to make sure nothing was out of place, Rasha entered. With a cautious look around, Logan slowly stepped in after her with Isaiah cradled in the crook of his left arm. Along with the Pokémon and his food, he juggled two grocery bags bulging with his stolen supplies and his own few possessions. Rasha took the bowl from him as soon as they were inside and led him into the kitchen.  
  
Rasha briskly turned on the tap and dumped the formula down the drain. While the water ran, she opened a drawer and picked up a small digital thermometer. She held the instrument under the stream of water as Logan peered over her shoulder. Bored, Isaiah began to cheep rudely at them and peck at Logan's gray sweatshirt.  
  
"I'm heating the water to about 100 degrees," Rasha explained as she watched the numbers on the thermometer's tiny screen.  
  
"Mm," Logan acknowledged as he tried to pry Isaiah's beak off the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Isaiah chattered indignantly.  
  
While she waited for the water to heat, Rasha took a measuring cup from the same drawer she had gotten the thermometer from and took a clean glass bowl out of a nearby cupboard door. After getting a packet of formula from the bags Logan had set on the counter she scooped up a scoop, leveled it off, and poured it into the bowl before returning to the water. Logan watched attentively from behind her. After several minutes of holding the thermometer under the tap, Rasha picked up the little cup and poured two scoops of water in with the formula powder. She used the thermometer to mix up the slush, pausing to check the thermometer every few seconds. "It should be between 97 and 100 degrees," she told Logan as she stirred. "No hotter, no colder." Logan nodded. Finally, Rasha set down the bowl, picked up the plastic syringe, and drew up 10 CC's of formula. "Put Isaiah down here," she instructed, and Logan carefully plucked the little bird off his shirt with gentle hands and set him on the counter. Taking the syringe in one hand, Rasha quickly poked the end into the corner of Isaiah's beak and shot a bit of formula into his throat. After tasting it, Isaiah squawked loudly and stretched his beak over the end of the syringe, thrusting his head rapidly up and down as Rasha injected more formula into his gullet. They continued that way for several minutes, Rasha squeezing a CC or two into the Zapdos's mouth and then giving him a chance to swallow before going again. When the syringe was empty, she refilled it and gave it to Logan so he could have a try.  
  
Logan gripped the syringe with his fingers and set his thumb against the end of the plunger. Carefully, he pointed it at the corner of Isaiah's mouth as Rasha had done. The bird immediately fastened his beak around the end of it. Logan pressed the plunger hard, forcing a lot of formula into Isaiah's mouth at once. Brown liquid dribbled out of Isaiah's beak and all down his front. Making a face, Logan waited for him to swallow and then injected more slowly this time, allowing Isaiah take his time and eat at his own speed. Soon the syringe was empty again. Isaiah swallowed and then flipped his head back and forth, spattering drops of formula all over the counter and the two humans.  
  
"Lovely," Rasha muttered, looking down at her now spotted T-shirt. She grabbed a washrag to wipe off the counter while Logan rubbed formula off Isaiah's beak with his thumb. "You know what you're doing now?" Rasha asked as she swiped up the formula spatters. Not listening, Logan flipped his hand around, spraying more formula on the counter Rasha had just finished cleaning. "Hey!" Rasha protested. Ignoring her, Logan went back to trying to clean off the uncooperative chick. Growling at him under her breath, Rasha wiped the counter off a second time. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be polite," she grumbled.  
  
"I don't do polite," Logan retorted.  
  
"Well, if you're gonna be staying here, you'd better learn to 'do polite.' Otherwise."  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Logan yelped. "Who said anything about me staying here?"  
  
"Well, I just figured that since I'd be helping you raise this Pokémon, it'd be easier--"  
  
"What 'easier'? Look, woman."  
  
"My name is RASHA!" Rasha shouted in his face. "NOT 'woman'! Got that?"  
  
Logan shut up.  
  
"Now, you listen!" Rasha jabbed a finger at Logan. "You can trudge back up to that little cave if you want, but raising a chick up there isn't going to be easy. You want a good living environment for him? Then I suggest you try staying here, at least until you get the hang of this. I don't wanna stay with you anymore than you wanna stay with me, but I also want what's best for Isaiah."  
  
"You've known him for twenty minutes," Logan snipped.  
  
"It doesn't matter! Do you think I like to see baby Pokémon die?"  
  
Furrowing his brow, Logan nibbled a hangnail. Well, he definitely didn't care if he never saw that cave again.  
  
"Well?" Rasha pressed impatiently.  
  
"Wouldja give me a second?" Logan snapped. "I'm thinking. Geezus!"  
  
Growling, Rasha folded her arms across her chest and waited. Finally, Logan sighed.  
  
"Where'm I supposed to sleep?" he snarled shortly.  
  
"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic," Rasha snapped angrily, stomping out of the kitchen. "C'mon, I've got a spare bedroom. I don't know why I'm helping you," she added shortly.  
  
Logan mumbled something under his breath.  
  
Rasha spun back around. "What was that?"  
  
"Noooothing," Logan drawled, scooping up Isaiah.  
  
  
  
Rasha snapped off the burner on her stove and blew a cloud of steam away from the metal pot before giving the stew she had been cooking a quick taste test. Satisfied, she ladled some into two small bowls, which she set on the kitchen counter, and called for Logan. "Logan! Dinner!" She waited a couple of minutes, but he didn't answer. Rolling her eyes, she raised her voice a decibel and shouted, "Logan!!"  
  
"Whaaat?" he yelled back from the spare bedroom where he'd spent the entire afternoon.  
  
"Dinner!"  
  
"I'll be there in a minute!" he yelled, sounding annoyed.  
  
Snarling under her breath, Rasha waited. Five minutes later, she called again. "Logan!"  
  
No answer.  
  
Rasha stomped into the living room, but before she made it to the spare bedroom she stopped short with a gasp as she caught sight of the wall on the far side of the room, next to the doorframe leading to the hall.  
  
It was a spider - but definitely not your everyday daddy longlegs. This creature was at least a foot long, was colored bright red with bold black markings and yellow legs, and sported venomous-looking stingers on its head and rear. Its many-faceted purple eyes glimmered weirdly at Rasha's horror-stricken face.  
  
Rasha swallowed her scream with a gulp, wondering how the Ariados had gotten in without her noticing, but thinking much harder about how she was going to get rid of it. Bug Pokémon in general didn't bother her, but this particular breed and its un-evolved cousin, Spinarak, had always given her the creeps. She didn't know if it was the sharp legs or the sharp stingers that got her more, but at the moment she didn't care: she just wanted it gone. All of a sudden, though, an inkling of an answer to the very first question her frantic mind had asked trickled into her brain. Adding some steel to her voice, she called, "Logan?"  
  
No answer.  
  
Rasha clenched her teeth and sucked in a huge breath. "LOGAN!!!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come here, please!"  
  
"All right, all right!" he snapped, and she heard his irritated footsteps. In a minute, he emerged from the hall. "Yes?" he said tartly.  
  
Rasha pointed a finger. "What is this?" she demanded tersely.  
  
Logan folded his arms and pretended to study the Pokémon very carefully. "An Ariados," he said matter-of-factly, and turned to go.  
  
Rasha grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back. "I know what it is," she snarled at him. "What's it doing here?"  
  
"He's mine. His name's Weaver." Logan extended his fist toward the Ariados, and the huge arachnid crawled onto his arm.  
  
"Mind telling me what it's doing out of its Pokéball?" Rasha bit out.  
  
"He was just getting some exercise," Logan replied sharply.  
  
"Well, put him back!"  
  
"Aww, come on!" Logan protested. "He's been in there all day long! Haven't you?" he said to Weaver, who responded by clicking his mandibles and uttering strange guttural noises. Rasha cringed. Seeing her nervousness, Logan grinned widely. "You're not afraid of him, are you?" he taunted, thrusting arm and bug toward Rasha's face.  
  
"Knock it off!" Rasha shouted, jumping away. "Put that thing back in its Pokéball now! I don't want it crawling around my house!"  
  
"Gripe, grip, gripe!" Logan grumbled. "C'mon, Weaver." He headed for the bedroom again.  
  
"And when you're done, come have dinner!" Rasha yelled after him.  
  
"I'm not hungry!"  
  
"I made dinner and you're eating it!"  
  
When Logan came back Weaver was not with him, but now Isaiah was sitting on his shoulder and a new Pokémon walked quietly by his right leg. The newcomer was a Raichu: a Pokémon about two and a half feet tall with orange fur, pointed brown ears, and a whip-like tail that ended in a flat plate shaped like a lightning bolt.  
  
"Who's this?" Rasha asked, indicating the Raichu, who stood up straight and studied Rasha in a comically dignified manner.  
  
"Electra, my Raichu," Logan replied.  
  
Electra raised one chocolate-colored paw. "Rai," she greeted simply.  
  
Rasha nodded. "I suppose she and Isaiah are eating with you."  
  
"Yup," he said. "I'm guessing you have Pokémon food.?"  
  
"Yeah," she said. "You should feed Isaiah some formula, too. The same amount as before. Come on, then." She started off toward the kitchen with Logan and company following her. By the time they got there, the stew was too cool to taste good. Ignoring the bowls, Logan found the materials he needed to prepare Isaiah's dinner with Rasha's help and carefully fed the little bird under the young researcher's supervision.  
  
When Isaiah's crop was full, Logan settled lazily into one of the chairs behind a now lukewarm bowl of stew. Electra climbed obediently into the seat next to him, her eyes just barely visible over the table's edge.  
  
After testing the stew's temperature with her index finger, Rasha picked up the bowl and headed to the microwave. Seeing the distaste with which Logan looked at his own food, she offered to heat his up as well. "What does Electra usually eat?" she asked as she carefully fit both bowls into the microwave and set the timer to fifteen seconds.  
  
"She forages," he replied. "She'll eat whatever you give her. She's not picky."  
  
"Okay. What do you mean, she forages?" Rasha inquired as she got out a bowl to for Electra.  
  
"She finds her own food, in the wild. All my Pokémon used to forage. It made things a lot easier for me while I was in the cave."  
  
"Oh," Rasha said, not quite understanding, but also not wanting to press the matter. She really didn't care to know where Logan got his own essentials.  
  
The microwave beeped, signaling that the stew was done. Rasha gave Logan his bowl and Electra her food, and leaned against the counter to eat her own dinner standing up. As she ate her stew, she tried not to stare at Logan, who was quietly eating from his own bowl. I guess eating is the only polite thing he does, she thought dryly. Electra, she noticed, ate with the same quiet manner as her master.  
  
"So," Logan said suddenly. "What do you do?"  
  
"Huh?" Rasha inquired.  
  
"You know. What do you do? For work, I mean."  
  
"Oh," Rasha said. "I'm a researcher. That's why I'm here: to study Pokémon in this area."  
  
"I see," Logan said, sipping the broth of his stew.  
  
"Chu," Electra said, indicating her bowl, which was now empty.  
  
"Done already?" Logan said. "Okay. Just sit and be good until I'm done."  
  
"Rai," the Pokémon said obediently.  
  
"Was Electra your first Pokémon?" Rasha asked, probing for conversation.  
  
"Yeah," Logan said proudly, showing the first sign of interest in talking since she'd met him.  
  
Rasha smiled at Electra. "Did you evolve her from a Pikachu?"  
  
"No," he said. "She was given to me as she is. She was a gift from my brother."  
  
"I see," Rasha said.  
  
Logan finished the last of his stew and set the spoon in the bowl. "I'm going to bed," he said abruptly, standing up. Electra hopped off her chair and followed her master to his room.  
  
Rasha didn't say anything as she watched him disappear down the hallway. For a while she stayed in the kitchen alone, just thinking about everything that had happened to her since just yesterday. Finally, she stood and headed out to the backyard to give her own Pokémon their dinners. 


	3. The Emergency Room

CHAPTER 3-THE EMERGENCY ROOM  
  
"I'm going out to buy some things," Rasha announced as she gathered up the leather bag that held her wallet.  
  
"Bye," Logan said.  
  
It was the next morning, Logan had fed Isaiah, and Rasha was going into town for Pokémon food and formula. If she wanted to feed her own Pokémon and Logan's she would need more than she had now.  
  
"I'll be gone for about an hour," she said. "Maybe an hour and a half."  
  
"Okay. Bye," Logan said.  
  
"Fine," she said, annoyed at his apathy.  
  
Logan started off for the back bedroom.  
  
"Oh, and Logan?" Rasha called as she headed out the door. "Don't touch anything while I'm gone."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Rasha headed out the door.  
  
  
  
Rasha got back about ten minutes later than she thought she would. She slung the three plastic bags she was carrying onto one arm and fumbled for her house key. Finally, she managed to unlock the door and open it.  
  
She almost jumped out of her skin when a small creature that looked like a green brontosaurus with a leaf on its head ran up to greet her, almost knocking her down in its excitement. "Li, leaf!" it said.  
  
"Bayleaf!" Rasha said, trying not to yell. "What are you doing out of your Pokéball?"  
  
"Bayleaf, li-li-leaf!" Bayleaf yammered, trotting back inside. Rasha followed, afraid of what she would find.  
  
The house had transformed into a zoo. A Poliwhirl leaped from desk to desk, knocking things over, while Sudowoodo stood in the middle of the living room like some ridiculously huge floral decoration. Houndour raced around, barking madly and knocking over more things than Poliwhirl. The huge red Ariados, Weaver, crawled up the wall to escape the rest of the creatures. Meanwhile, Electra the Raichu stood in the middle of the floor, looking uncertain. In the midst of it all, sitting on the couch and looking guilty, was Logan. On his shoulder Isaiah sat, whistling softly and looking very pleased with the whole scene.  
  
Rasha's head boiled. "What. did you. do?" she said very slowly.  
  
Logan scratched his head. "I took them out of their Pokéballs to see what they were," he said.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And," Logan said, "I couldn't get them back in."  
  
Rasha rubbed her temples. "Logaaaan."  
  
"Well. at least they got some exercise," he offered.  
  
"This is not how they're supposed to get exercise!" shrieked Rasha, her face turning red. "What made you think you could just up and let them out, anyway?! Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?!"  
  
Logan said nothing.  
  
Grumbling about people who just couldn't stand to do what they were told, Rasha stooped down to collect her five various-colored Pokéballs, which the Pokémon had scattered. Once she'd found them all, she picked up the first one, the camouflage-colored one, and sucked up Sudowoodo. "All right, party over!" she announced. "You guys are all going back in now!"  
  
The Pokémon stopped what they were doing and uttered cries of protest.  
  
"No arguing!" Rasha said. She picked up her second Pokéball, which was half purple with a coin on a chain painted onto the purple part, but hesitated when she raised her arm to use it. "Where's Zelda?" she asked Logan.  
  
"What's a Zelda?"  
  
"My Drowzee," Rasha said. "Zelda is her nickname."  
  
"Oh," he said. "I dunno. I think she went in the kitchen."  
  
Rasha ran into the kitchen and found all the cupboard doors open, boxes of food spilled everywhere and, in the middle of everything, a tan- and-brown, short-eared, long-nosed Pokémon munching on a Poké-cookie.  
  
"Zelda!"  
  
The Drowzee started and turned to look at her master with a guilty expression on her face and food crumbs all over her mouth.  
  
"Argh! Return!" she ordered. The ball opened, and Zelda disappeared into it.  
  
When Rasha returned to the living room, she couldn't believe what she was seeing now. Logan hadn't moved from the couch, but now Poliwhirl sat on the cushion beside him, and Houndour rubbed up against him and begged to be petted as if she were just a playful little puppy, rather than the exceptional guard dog she'd been trained to be.  
  
Rasha sighed and withdrew Bayleaf, who was tottering around after Weaver, into a Pokéball that had a leaf pattern painted onto the top half. "Are you two quite done?" she asked her remaining Pokémon.  
  
Poliwhirl looked up at her with his usual blank, childlike expression. Houndour delicately licked Logan's fingers.  
  
Rasha shook her head. "Well, things aren't boring around here anymore, I'll give you that, Logan," she gritted. "Poliwhirl. Houndour. return." The two Pokémon vanished into their Pokéballs, leaving only the two humans and Logan's Pokémon in the room. "Now," she said. "What made you think you could just go messing around with my Pokémon?"  
  
Logan's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't going to take them," he growled defensively.  
  
"That's not what I said."  
  
"But you're insinuating it."  
  
"I wasn't insinuating anything! It's a simple matter of I told you not to do something, and you did it anyway!"  
  
"You're starting to sound like my grandmother."  
  
Rasha let that one go. "I'm trying to trust you, Logan," she continued. "It's not easy, but I'm really trying, and you're not helping me."  
  
Logan sighed, and for a minute Rasha thought he might actually apologize. Instead, he looked at his hands and drummed his fingers restlessly, saying nothing.  
  
Shaking her head, Rasha said, "Okay, all that aside. Why did you let them out?"  
  
Logan shrugged the shoulder that Isaiah wasn't sitting on. "I just wanted to see if I could beat you in battle," he said nonchalantly as he fished out his Pokéballs and withdrew Electra and Weaver, who actually looked relieved to be returned to their balls.  
  
Rasha raised her eyebrows. "Is that a challenge?"  
  
"Not really," Logan said. Then his teeth flashed in a sly grin. "Unless. you want to battle me."  
  
"I think that is a challenge," Rasha countered. "Well, let's go then. Come on, we'll battle out back."  
  
  
  
Logan had never seen a bigger backyard than Rasha's. Having grown up in the city, he wasn't used to seeing houses with this much land. It was a good place to hold Pokémon battles - plenty of room for the Pokémon to move.  
  
Automatically, Logan moved to the right side of the yard, while Rasha stationed herself several yards away from him on the left side.  
  
"You ready?" Rasha shouted from her end of the field.  
  
"Ready when you are," Logan called back confidently.  
  
"You can go ahead and set the rules if you want!" Rasha answered.  
  
"Three on three."  
  
"Okay! My first Pokémon." Rasha threw her Pokéball to the ground.  
  
White energy burst out of the ball. When it faded the dinosaur-like grass Pokémon, Bayleaf, stood in front of Rasha.  
  
"Okay," Logan said, cracking his knuckles. "I choose Weaver!" He tossed the ball to release his Ariados, who immediately rushed up to meet Bayleaf, his mandibles clicking furiously. Bayleaf pawed the earth in a threatening gesture.  
  
"I admit your bug gives me the creeps," Rasha said, "but it won't scare Bayleaf! Stomp attack, now!"  
  
"Weaver! Dodge!"  
  
Bayleaf leaped into the air and brought her flat, clawed feet down with a seismic thud, aiming for the center of Weaver's body, but the Ariados cunningly scuttled out of the way. Bayleaf wheeled to chase the agile arachnid.  
  
"Poison Sting!" Logan commanded.  
  
Weaver pivoted until he faced Bayleaf and opened his mandibles, shooting a shower of thin white needles at the grass Pokémon's head. Bayleaf crouched down in a defensive posture and deflected the attack by spinning the leaf on her head around in a rapid circular motion, batting the needles away.  
  
"Good work!" Rasha shouted. "Now. Vine Whip!"  
  
Two of the cone-shapes on either side of Bayleaf's neck elongated and become long green whips. She lashed out, forcing Weaver to back away and dodge. Bayleaf pursued, striking again and again with her vines until she finally grabbed Weaver around the midsection. She raised Weaver in the air and then slammed him into the ground, repeating the action over and over.  
  
"Weaver, Bite attack!" Logan ordered calmly.  
  
Weaver clamped his mandibles into Bayleaf's vine and twisted his head, trying to invoke as much pain as possible, while Bayleaf screeched and thrashed violently. Finally she released her hold on Weaver, who flew off and soared through the air, landing deftly on his six legs.  
  
Rasha gritted her teeth. "Okay," she said. "Razor Leaf, now!"  
  
Crouching into her defensive posture once again, Bayleaf swiveled the leaf on her head, and two smaller leaves with sharp edges sprouted, detached, and whizzed toward Weaver like throwing stars. The spider dodged one, but in doing so he ran right into the other's path. It didn't cut deep but it grazed his side, creating a thin line of blood and causing the Pokémon to squeal in pain.  
  
Razor Leaf was a danger to his winning the battle. Logan quickly tried to figure a way to prevent it. "Weaver!" he said cautiously. "Run around and see if you can jump onto its back!"  
  
Weaver scurried to obey.  
  
"Don't let it do that!" Rasha shouted. "Use your Vine Whip to block it!"  
  
As Weaver raced forward, Bayleaf lanced out her vines. One struck Weaver a glancing blow to the head and sent him flying back.  
  
"Focus Energy!" Logan shouted. "Concentrate, Weaver! You can do it!"  
  
"Don't let it in, Bayleaf!" Rasha cautioned.  
  
"Li, leaf!" Bayleaf shouted, flailing her vines. But Weaver's eyes began to glisten threateningly, and he rushed the green Pokémon at a blistering speed, somehow managing to stay one step ahead of Bayleaf's blows. He closed in, and with a sudden thrust of his legs he was on Bayleaf's back and crawling up her long neck. Bayleaf shrieked and bucked, trying to throw Weaver off, but his long, sharp legs held fast.  
  
"String Shot!" Logan shouted. "Aim for the leaf!"  
  
Delicate-looking - but strong - thread sprang from between Weaver's mandibles. The sticky goop looped over Bayleaf's head again and again, until the leaf on the top of her head was plastered tightly along the back of her neck. "Leeeaaaf!" Bayleaf shouted in alarm, and with a final jerk she threw Weaver off. He landed several feet away, swaying slightly as he climbed to his feet.  
  
"Bayleaf, Tackle!" Rasha cried.  
  
Bayleaf charged forward and rammed into the stunned bug, sending him flying once more.  
  
"Weaver! Try to stand!" Logan ordered smoothly.  
  
"We've got it beat!" Rasha shouted. "Bayleaf, finish it off with Razor Leaf!"  
  
Bayleaf tried to use Razor Leaf, but without being able to execute the swiveling motion of the leaf on top of her head, she couldn't perform the attack. While she struggled, Weaver stood and rushed forward, burying his sharp jaws into Bayleaf's leg. Bayleaf screamed and stomped up and down; Weaver flapped like a flag.  
  
"Giga Drain!" Logan ordered.  
  
Green light suddenly hammered through Bayleaf's body. Rasha's mouth hung agape as her Pokémon slowly sank to her knees, the energy slowly draining from her body until she was too weak to even stand.  
  
"Bayleaf, return!" Rasha cried, snapping out the Pokéball and withdrawing the beaten Pokémon, leaving the battered-looking Ariados to drop wearily onto the grass. Logan was better than she'd anticipated. "All right," she murmured, pulling out the Pokéball with the flames on it. "I choose Houndour!"  
  
The black doglike Pokémon appeared with a wild howl as her lips curled away from her teeth in a snarl.  
  
Logan saw that it was a mismatch - Weaver was at type disadvantage, and Bayleaf had tired him out so much that he couldn't hope to stand a chance against the fire-and-dark type. "I'll substitute," he announced. "Weaver, return!" He replaced Weaver's Pokéball and held up another, a sly grin curling his lips. "Go, Opal!"  
  
Rasha gasped as an enormous Pokémon that towered over both her and Houndour emerged. Opal, the Onix, extended her long, rock-hard form into an imposing position and bellowed menacingly.  
  
"Don't back down, Houndour!" Rasha encouraged. "Use Flamethrower!"  
  
"Horn Attack!" Logan called back, sounding confident.  
  
The flame that burst from Houndour's jaws engulfed Opal's head, but didn't even seem to faze her as she fell on the smaller Pokémon with her horn pointed straight forward like a lance. The rock-snake cut through the fire and slammed into Houndour. Her blunt stone horn didn't cut, but it threw Houndour back a good few paces. The dog crumpled to the ground, whimpering in pain.  
  
"Wait, Opal," Logan murmured to his Pokémon.  
  
"Houndour!" cried Rasha, rushing to the fallen creature's side. Houndour emitted a long, drawn-out moan as Rasha tried to help her up. She didn't want to lose the round so quickly, but since Houndour was obviously no match for Opal - but was not yet quite defeated - she decided to do the only thing she could. "I substitute! Houndour, return," she said. Gritting her teeth, Rasha made a quick decision and detached another Pokéball. When it opened, her Poliwhirl stood on the field of battle.  
  
Logan laughed. "Opal, Horn Attack!"  
  
"Poliwhirl, Bubblebeam!"  
  
As Opal readied for her Horn Attack, a thick cloud of multicolored bubbles suddenly surrounded her on all sides. Opal stopped short, unsure. Tentatively, she tried to move, and all the bubbles that she tapped as a result of that motion exploded on contact, painfully hammering into her rocky skin.  
  
"Opal, don't move!" Logan cautioned. "Use Harden, then Horn Attack!"  
  
Opal's eyes closed in concentration and her body began to shimmer with white light that quickly faded. With a roar, she lunged downward toward Poliwhirl. The exploding bubbles no longer seemed to faze her as she came down with an earth-shattering blow, but at the last second Poliwhirl leaped away. Instead of hitting Poliwhirl Opal drove her horn straight into the ground, creating a good-sized hole where she struck.  
  
"Good try, good try," Logan said. "Take Down!"  
  
"Quick, Poliwhirl!" Rasha cried. "Ice Beam!"  
  
Opal lunged, but just as she began to move Poliwhirl held up his hands and a glowing blue orb of light formed that exploded outward into a crackling beam. When the beam contacted with Opal's skin it formed ice, instantly covering her head and gradually traveling down her entire body until she was stiff all over. Because she could no longer move to attack, the Onix was defeated.  
  
Logan cursed under his breath. "Opal, return!" he said, withdrawing the frozen Pokémon. "All right. Your turn, Electra!"  
  
Before Poliwhirl could even react, Electra burst out of the Pokéball, tackled him to the ground, and shocked the daylights out of him, all without even being ordered to do so. Rasha froze in shock as Poliwhirl fell to the ground with dizzy eyes and Electra stepped off, ready for her next challenger.  
  
"P. Poliwhirl, return," Rasha stammered, looking astonished.  
  
Now Rasha was in trouble. Electra was obviously Logan's most powerful Pokémon, and her only remaining choice was Houndour. Had Houndour shaken off Opal's attack enough to stand a chance? She could only hope so.  
  
"Go, Houndour! Flamethrower attack!"  
  
"Double Team," Logan said placidly.  
  
Houndour inhaled, but swallowed her flame when Electra suddenly split into two, then four, then six separate Raichu. She continued to multiply until a circle of electric Pokémon, each startling real, surrounded Houndour.  
  
"Dourrr?" Houndour whimpered, turning her head back and forth. One of these Raichu was the real Electra, but it was impossible to tell which.  
  
"Raai!" the illusion Raichu chorused. Sparks flew from all of their cheeks.  
  
"Come on, Houndour! Don't just stand there!" Rasha shouted. "Try to use Flamethrower to find the real one!"  
  
"Houndoooouuur!" Flame erupted from Houndour's parted jaws. The attack struck one of the Raichu in the gut, but it passed right through. This one wasn't real. Houndour turned and fired again and again, but each time the flame passed straight through the Pokémon she struck.  
  
"Electra," Logan said quietly. "Quick Attack."  
  
The real Electra rocketed out of nowhere, striking Houndour in her right ribs with an astounding force. The dog Pokémon yelped in surprise as the force of the blow threw her to the ground  
  
"Electra!" Logan called. "Let's."  
  
Logan stopped as a sudden electronic ring sounded from inside the house. He, Rasha, and the Pokémon stopped and listened until they heard the noise again. It was Rasha's phone.  
  
"Better take it," Rasha muttered. "Houndour, return." Her Pokéball withdrew a grateful-looking Houndour.  
  
"Aw, dammit!" Logan complained as he withdrew Electra. "I was about to win, too!"  
  
Isaiah whistled.  
  
Rasha slammed into the house and picked up the phone on the fourth ring. "Hello?"  
  
"Rasha?" the female voice at the other end said. "You okay? You sound a little winded there!"  
  
"Falcon?" Rasha laughed. "How are you?"  
  
"Just fine," Falcon replied. "I'm just returning your message. How's the research going?"  
  
Rasha heard the door open and close, and Isaiah's cheerful whistle. "Oh. just fine." she said casually.  
  
"That's good to hear. Have you seen anything interesting yet?"  
  
Rasha grimaced. "You could say that."  
  
Falcon chuckled. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Now she could hear Logan's breathing behind her. "I'll have to call you back," Rasha said.  
  
"Okay. Are you sure everything's all right over there?"  
  
"It's fine," Rasha said. "Sorry, Falcon. I'll call you, okay?"  
  
"Sure, Rasha. Bye!"  
  
"Bye." Rasha hung up.  
  
Logan and Rasha hadn't realized how late it was getting. They quickly set about making dinner and getting their Pokémon fed. Isaiah impatiently tried to eat directly out of the bowl Logan used to prepare his formula.  
  
When she'd eaten and her Pokémon snoozed in their Pokéballs, Rasha collapsed into her living room sofa and lazily switched on the TV. She flipped channels until she found a Pokémon match in the Elite Four Challenge and settled back to watch.  
  
"Whatcha watching?" Logan asked offhandedly as he entered the room with Isaiah on his shoulder as usual.  
  
"Elite Four," Rasha said.  
  
Logan stood for a minute before awkwardly taking the cushion next to her. "What did I miss?"  
  
"It just started," Rasha replied as the TV announcer blared. "It's Loreli versus some kid from Kanto. I think his name's Marco or something like that."  
  
"I see," Logan muttered. "Hey, did you hear that the two of the Elite Four are getting challenged for their positions?"  
  
"Really?" Rasha said with sudden interest. "Who's getting challenged?"  
  
"Loreli and Agatha, I think. And Lance is goin' for Champion, so they'll have to have someone to take his place, too."  
  
"I didn't know Lance was trying for Elite Four Champion," Rasha said. "Well, he's certainly good enough. He'll probably get it."  
  
"Yeah," Logan said. "They say those dragons of his are unbeatable. No one's gotten into the Hall of Fame since the year he joined."  
  
"Yeah," Rasha replied. "Think Lance can really beat out Red?"  
  
"Sure he can," Logan said. "Red's gotta be rusty. I mean. hardly anyone even gets to the Champion anymore, but Lance has had tons of battles. He'll be in better shape."  
  
"But Red's got a more varied team," Rasha argued. "Lance only trains one type of Pokémon."  
  
"That's not exactly true," Logan said. "All his Pokémon are part dragon-type, but some of them have other types, too."  
  
"I guess you've got a point," Rasha admitted.  
  
For a long while she just stared at the TV screen, watching Loreli's Cloyster pound on the challenger's Seadra.  
  
"Logan," she said finally. "What happened with Isaiah? I mean, how did you find him?" There was no answer. "Logan?" Rasha turned her head to see an empty cushion beside her. While she'd been intent on the television, Logan had quietly gotten up and gone to bed.  
  
Sighing, Rasha got up and snapped off the TV on her way to the phone. She fumbled for the piece of paper on which she had written her friend's cell phone number and carefully dialed.  
  
"Hello?" Falcon said.  
  
"Hi," Rasha said. "It's Rasha. Sorry I hung up on you so fast before."  
  
"Oh, that's okay," said Falcon, but she sounded distracted, and Rasha heard her sigh into the phone.  
  
"What's wrong?" Rasha asked.  
  
Suddenly Rasha thought she heard a sharp sizzling/crackling noise in the background and screams, and then a strange bark from a canine Pokémon.  
  
"Nothing," said Falcon, sounding a little tense and more than a little weary.  
  
"Okay," Rasha said, unsure but not wanting to pursue it.  
  
"So, what's up?" Falcon said.  
  
"Oh," Rasha said. "Well, remember before when you were asking me about my research? Well, I did find something." Rasha quickly relayed the events of the past few days to Falcon.  
  
"Okay, hold on," Falcon said when she'd finished. "This Team Rocket guy with his Zapdos are now in your house?"  
  
"Yeah," Rasha said. "That's why I didn't want to talk to you before."  
  
"I see," Falcon said. "So. what do you want me to do about it?"  
  
"Well, it's just that Logan doesn't know much about Legendary Pokémon, and I'm not going to be able to help him all that much, either. I was hoping you'd be able to give me some advice, or something."  
  
Falcon paused for a moment. "Maybe if I get some time, I can see if I can come up," she said slowly. "Until then, I can see if there's going to be any lectures about infant Pokémon care near where you are. That should help."  
  
"Thanks, Falcon," Rasha said, feeling relieved.  
  
  
  
For once the next morning, Logan awoke before Rasha. Somehow he'd found the cold cereal by himself and was eating it when she came into the kitchen. Judging from the formula smeared all over the counter, Isaiah had already been fed. After wiping off the counter (and giving Logan a lecture about how it wouldn't kill him to clean up after himself) Rasha quickly ate a bowl of cereal and went out to feed her Pokémon. After awhile Logan wandered outside as well and released his own Pokémon so they could join in the meal.  
  
The afternoon passed without event. Rasha spent most of the day compiling her observations of the mountain area, which weren't much because she still hadn't seen anything except Isaiah, and since she was supposed to observe legendary Pokémon in their natural habitats, that didn't help much. For a while Logan went outside and did a little practice training with his Pokémon, and when he got sick of that he came back inside, fed Isaiah a couple pellets of Pokémon food, and spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping.  
  
When it finally began to get dark, Rasha yawned and put her notebooks away before going into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. When everything was in place, she waited around for Logan. Isaiah's demanding screams got louder and louder in the bedroom, but still Logan didn't come out. Finally, she stormed in to see what was taking him and found that somehow, he'd slept through the racket the baby Zapdos was making.  
  
"Logan," said Rasha, prodding his arm gently. "Wake up."  
  
Logan didn't even move.  
  
Rasha frowned. "Logan," she said, more insistently. "Isaiah's hungry. How can you sleep through that? Wake up and feed him, for Godssakes!" She started to shake him. "You lazy son of a. Logan, wake up!"  
  
Logan mumbled something that sounded like "go away" and curled up into a tighter ball.  
  
Finally, Rasha simply grabbed his arm and, ignoring his yelps of protest, dragged him out of the bed and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. "You've slept all day, idgit!" she yelled. "Get up and feed your poor bird!"  
  
Logan picked himself up and, mumbling some suspiciously "colorful" words under his breath, picked up the screeching and cranky Zapdos and stalked out to the kitchen.  
  
Still shaking off his long sleep, Logan set Isaiah down on the counter, took out the things he needed, and turned on the tap. As the water ran, he leaned against the counter, wondering how long he'd been asleep. It seemed like a week! He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that long without being interrupted.  
  
He picked up the thermometer and tested the water's temperature, found it just about right, and poured the right amount into a small bowl. He then added some powder. Seeing the bowl full of liquid, Isaiah hopped over with unusual speed and tried to stick his beak into the bowl. Logan lifted it easily out of reach, causing the little Pokémon to squawk angrily at him. He continued to think as he stirred the bowl, his mind still unfocused. His thoughts drifted from Isaiah to Rasha to the Pokémon League challenge before he finally realized he'd been stirring for quite a while. He checked the temperature of the food and swore: it was now too cold to feed to Isaiah. "Hey, Rasha!" he yelled. "The food's too cold!"  
  
"Heat it up in the microwave!" Rasha shouted from another room. "Heat it for around seven seconds, and let it cool off after until it's the right temperature!"  
  
Sighing, Logan opened the microwave, put the bowl inside, and set the time. Isaiah continued to screech and flap his wings impatiently. When the seconds had counted down to zero, he took the bowl out, tested the temperature, and swore again. It was now about ten degrees too hot. He began to blow on it, but as he did so he suddenly heard a loud clattering behind him. Isaiah, in his impatience to get to Logan and his food, had knocked the can of formula off the counter. Swearing most viciously, Logan bent down to pick up the can, trying to scoop the spilled formula into his hand.  
  
That's when he heard Isaiah scream. Not just an impatient hunger scream, but a real scream. Logan stood up so fast he banged his head on the counter. Isaiah was fluttering madly around the counter, knocking the glass bowl aside and spilling steaming formula onto the counter in his pained panic. Frantic, Logan tried to grab the little bird, his eardrums throbbing with Isaiah's panicked screams. "RASHA!" he shouted as he tried to pin Isaiah's wings to his sides.  
  
Rasha skidded into the kitchen at a break-neck speed, nearly sliding on her back. "What is it?! What is it?!" she demanded.  
  
Logan had finally gotten a hold on Isaiah that prevented him from flapping his wings. Formula dribbled from his beak, still steaming. "Oh God!" Logan cried.  
  
"Logan! You didn't feed him that!"  
  
"No! Oh God. the thing fell on the floor, and I set it on the counter. Oh God!" Logan seemed to be going into hysterics.  
  
Rasha ran over to the kitchen floor and grabbed her car keys. "Let's go," she said tersely, grabbing him by the shoulder and steering him toward the door. On her way out, she grabbed a dishtowel off the rack above the sink. Both she and Logan raced for the car. Rasha leaped into the driver's seat and jammed the key into the ignition as Logan dove into the passenger seat. Neither bothered to put on their seatbelts as Rasha rolled quickly out of the driveway. Once they'd turned onto the street she shifted into drive and the car tore down the street like a thing possessed, its tires squealing madly.  
  
Logan, clutching the agonized Zapdos, was starting to pale, and it looked like he was going to go into shock as he just kept muttering to himself, "Oh God. Oh God."  
  
"We're going to the Pokémon Center now, Logan," Rasha gritted as she ran a stop sign. Outside, a horn blared as they zoomed past. "Wrap Isaiah in this." She tossed the dishtowel at Logan, who numbly obeyed.  
  
Rasha drove like she was trying to outrun the end of her life - which she was probably just barely doing, anyway. She paid no heed as horns blared and drivers shouted insults and made signs with their fingers when the car screeched by. Their trip ended abruptly as Rasha slammed into the driveway of the Pokémon Center, parking lengthwise along three spaces, and twisted off the ignition. She and Logan flew out of the car and ran into the center, leaving both car doors open. Isaiah's cries grew weaker; his eyes gradually dulled and became glazed as they ran.  
  
The two trainers that had been sitting around in the Pokémon Center turned their heads in alarm as Logan and Rasha burst through the door and up to the startled Nurse Joy at the counter. "We have a bird Pokémon who burned his crop eating some overheated food," Rasha gasped.  
  
Nurse Joy wasted no time. "Chansey!" she shouted. "Bring me a stretcher!" She reached out to Logan, who quietly handed over the bundle Isaiah was wrapped in. He watched without saying a word as Isaiah was placed on a small stretcher and rushed into the emergency room by a Chansey, with Nurse Joy close behind.  
  
Rasha's hand on his shoulder made him flinch. "Come on," she said gently, trying to steer him toward the cushioned seats that lined the side of the center.  
  
Logan couldn't move; he couldn't even take his eyes off the door the little Pokémon had disappeared behind. He felt cold and hollow. It was like the last part of him that meant something had disappeared behind that door - and he didn't know if it would ever come back.  
  
"Come on," Rasha repeated, taking hold of his forearm. "There's nothing we can do but wait. The center will take care of Isaiah."  
  
Logan didn't protest as he was led to a seat and sat down.  
  
The wait was the most horrible part of being in the hospital. For almost four hours they sat without moving, waiting for the light above the door to turn off. Waiting for anything that would tell them whether Isaiah would live or not.  
  
Logan spent the entire time in a fog, never moving or speaking and always staring fixedly at the same spot. Once, through the veil, he heard someone offer him food and drink, and he managed to shake his head no.  
  
Though no one spoke to him apart from that, Logan's mind refused to stop badgering him. It's your fault you overslept. You weren't paying attention. If you'd been paying attention, this wouldn't have happened. If you hadn't killed his parents.  
  
Somewhere along the line he must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew someone shook him awake, and when he opened his eyes Rasha knelt over him on the seat beside him. Beyond her stood a smiling Nurse Joy.  
  
"Your Pokémon survived the operation," she said in her usual cheerful tone, though it also carried a hint of weariness. "It'll need some intensive care to recover, but it looks like it's going to be just fine."  
  
Logan blinked. His eyes stung, and he was suddenly afraid he would cry. He wanted to say something, but all he seemed to be able to do was to stare, wide-eyed, at the red-haired nurse.  
  
Rasha sighed. "God, what a relief," she moaned. "Thank you, Nurse Joy!"  
  
"Th. Thanks," Logan said mumbled awkwardly.  
  
Nurse Joy smiled and returned to the back. Logan stared after her for a few seconds. Then he collapsed into the seat with a loud sigh. His throat was tight, and there were tears in his eyes - but the nightmare was over.  
  
So why wouldn't his conscience leave him alone?  
  
  
  
They sat in the waiting room for a couple more hours. One of the trainers that had been there when they arrived eventually left, but the other set up a sleeping mat on the ground and prepared to spend the night there.  
  
Logan still couldn't seem to fully recover from his shock. The color had returned to his face and he no longer appeared catatonic, but he seemed only to want to sit in silence, and his eyes still held a haunted, glazed look. With some coaxing, Rasha managed to get him to eat a very small amount of food and drink some water.  
  
Eventually, Nurse Joy came up to them again. "The Pokémon will have to stay overnight," she informed them. "It'll be in good hands here. You can return for it in the morning."  
  
Logan sat up, looking alarmed. One look at him told Rasha he had no intention of leaving unless Isaiah came with him. She glanced at the remaining trainer, who was asleep in his sleeping bag on the floor. "Perhaps we should spend the night," she suggested.  
  
She felt Logan's eyes on her with a look of. gratitude? Confusion? Curiosity? She couldn't tell.  
  
Nurse Joy nodded in understanding. "I'll get you some of the Center's blankets," she offered.  
  
"Thank you," Rasha said as the woman once again disappeared into the back.  
  
The night wore on. Rasha was exhausted, but Logan refused to sleep. He simply sat with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders, tracing a path on the table with his fingers. In the dim light, Rasha could see tears glistening in his eyes. It killed her to see him like that.  
  
"Are you gonna be okay?" she asked softly.  
  
He nodded. "I'll be fine," he managed.  
  
"He'll be all right, Logan," Rasha whispered softly, touching his shoulder gently with her palm without really thinking about it. "The Pokémon Center always takes good care of Pokémon."  
  
"I hope you're right," Logan whispered.  
  
Rasha stared. All her life, she'd heard about Team Rocket on the news. As she grew older and began to learn about them through her own experiences, her already ill thoughts of them had grown deeper. Now, she realized that any human, no matter how many mistakes he or she made, was still capable of feeling. Logan had shown her that. For a minute, she suddenly felt very close to him. Tentatively, she reached out and put her hand over his in a comforting gesture. He tensed a bit, but he didn't pull away. They sat like that for a few minutes, her hand over his, before Rasha forced herself to break the touch. "Go to sleep, Logan," she whispered.  
  
He turned to face her in the dark. And maybe it was the shadows distorting his features, but Rasha thought she saw him smile.  
  
Not a grim smile, or a mischievous one. A real smile. the first one she'd seen on him since they'd met.  
  
  
  
At last, Logan's extra sleep credited him when he woke before Rasha for the second time in a row. At once, his unfamiliar surroundings bemused his sleep-clouded brain (he wasn't what you call a morning person). Blearily, he looked around him, growing exceedingly uncomfortable. especially when he discovered that Rasha had been curled up on the cushion next to him using his arm as a pillow the whole night. Finally something must have clicked, because all the events of the previous day came rushing back in an overwhelming stream. Groaning, he shook his head, wishing it would all just go away. Too many things happen to me, dammit!  
  
When he got up the courage to slip himself out from underneath the slumbering Rasha, he got up and wandered around aimlessly, wondering if anyone was even awake besides him. It was still early - no one had even turned on the lights in the Center yet - and there were no other beings visible in the building besides himself, Rasha, and some unknown person who slept on the floor.  
  
A small shuffling noise made Logan start. Soon a Chansey, bleary- eyed and yawning, appeared through a back door behind the counter. The round, pink creature waddled over to flip on a light switch, adjusting the dimmer so that it wouldn't awaken the sleeping humans. When it caught sight of Logan it smiled cheerfully, as Chansey often do. "Chansey!"  
  
"Hello," Logan replied softly, smiling in spite of himself. It was said that it was impossible to keep a bad mood when in the company of Chansey, and maybe this proved it.  
  
"Chansey, chansey!" the Chansey replied a bit loudly, before immediately clapping a small hand over its mouth as it remembered the sleeping humans. Its beady eyes darted around nervously as it wondered if it had disturbed anyone's sleep.  
  
Logan thought for a moment. "Chansey," he said quietly. "Can you do me a favor, please?"  
  
"Chan-sey?"  
  
"I brought a Pokémon in yesterday," Logan whispered. "A little Zapdos. He went in for surgery. Is. he's in the recovery room now, isn't he?"  
  
The Chansey nodded and smiled.  
  
Logan smiled back. "Can you let me in there?"  
  
The Chansey looked uncertain - obviously, this was against the rules - but when it looked back at Logan it decided to bend those rules a bit. "Chansey!" it said agreeably, motioning for Logan to follow it.  
  
Chansey showed Logan where Nurse Joy kept the room keys, which Logan had to get down himself due to Chansey's stature. The round Pokémon then led him to the recovery room and, once he'd discovered the right key through trial and error, Logan let himself inside.  
  
There were several beds in the hospital. A blue curtain separated each patient's space from its neighbors'. Trying to deaden the sound of his footsteps, Logan quietly walked down the aisle, looking into each compartment before he finally spotted one bed on which a small ball of spiky yellow feathers lay tranquilly still.  
  
Isaiah was curled into a ball, his long beak tucked under his right wing and his black-bordered eyelids closed. A relieved sigh escaped Logan. He didn't look like he was suffering at all! There was a small stool in the room, and Logan carefully scooted it closer to the bed so he could sit. For a while he only looked, but he couldn't resist the urge to reached out and softly stroke Isaiah's crest with one finger. The little Pokémon squeaked and stirred, and then his eyelids parted. But when he saw it was only Logan, he sighed softly and closed them again; his breathing slowed as his human friend's hand stroked his head.  
  
Logan snuffled softly, grateful that he was alone and in the merciful dark, where no one would be able to make out the tears in his eyes. Five months it had been since the accident; five months had passed since he'd mercilessly shot down the two adult Zapdos as they attacked him to defend their child-- something he wouldn't know until it was too late. The moment he'd discovered Isaiah, alone in his cave and crying for the parents that would never return, had been the moment that changed his life forever. Without Isaiah, he would've spent his entire life a Team Rocket member - mirthless, cruel, and lost. Without Isaiah, his true soul - the one he'd kept to himself his entire life - would've remained hidden even to him forever.  
  
Logan remembered reading once that the most beautiful things resulted from sadness; that out of misery came the most beautiful poems, the most expressive music, and the most brilliant literature. The day he'd slain the Zapdos had been the most horrid experience of his life, but now he understood that out of his self-loathing, Isaiah's life had not only been saved but so, in a way, had his own. If he had not hated himself for killing Isaiah's parents, he wouldn't have taken it upon himself to raise the baby Zapdos - and he'd almost certainly have died without ever discovering the part of him that was still capable of love.  
  
The lights in the room suddenly blazed to life, startling Logan. Out in the hall, the sound of creaking footsteps made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. When Nurse Joy stopped in front of Isaiah's room, she was met with a very quiet man whose blank face conveyed that he had no idea what she would say to him.  
  
But rather than the chastisement he'd been expecting for breaking into the recovery room, the nurse only sighed and asked, "Did Chansey let you in?"  
  
"I let myself in," he replied expressionlessly.  
  
"Don't worry," Joy assured him. "I won't punish Chansey. She only wants to make people feel better; I can't very well punish her for that, can I? Besides," she added, "it's good to see you up, anyway. Your friend was very concerned by your behavior last night. I hope this has reassured you some."  
  
Logan nodded softly.  
  
"That's good." Nurse Joy smiled. "I suppose I don't mind if you want to stay with your Pokémon awhile, but try not to wake him; the procedure tired him, and he needs his sleep to recover."  
  
Again, Logan nodded. The nurse exited the room, leaving him once again alone with Isaiah.  
  
  
  
Naturally, Rasha went from anxious to agitated when she discovered Logan missing after she awoke. When she inquired as to his whereabouts at the front desk, though, Nurse Joy assured her that he was in the recovery room with Isaiah. That made her annoyance fade: she was glad Logan's shock had lessened enough that he could do something about it, albeit in his own introverted manner.  
  
Since the center served breakfast, Rasha and the strange traveler, whom she later found out was called Joel, sat at tables to eat the pancakes and hash browns that happened to be on the menu that morning. Since Nurse Joy had only left her desk for a second before returning with the hot plates, Rasha couldn't help but suspect that it was actually Chansey that prepared the food. At any rate, it was good.  
  
Logan spent a very long time in the recovery room, but Rasha didn't have the heart to rush him, although she was hopelessly bored and anxious to be home. It didn't take a psychic to see that Isaiah's injury had damaged him, and she figured he needed to be with the Pokémon now to assure himself that things would turn out all right. In the meantime, she had Nurse Joy revitalize her Pokémon to make sure they were in good shape after that battle with Logan. All had recovered due to the effects of Super Potion and other remedies, but some still seemed to ache a bit from the injuries Logan's fighters had given them - particularly Houndour, whose ribs had been tender ever since suffering Opal's Horn Attack. Bayleaf also seemed to be suffering from the lingering effects of the Giga Drain Weaver had given her, and she suspected that the Ariados might have accidentally released a drop or two of poison fluid into her grass-type's bloodstream. Nevertheless, there never seemed to be a wound a Pokémon Center couldn't heal, and this was no different. After she'd gotten them back from Nurse Joy Rasha released all her Pokémon momentarily to see how they were faring, and they were just fine.  
  
"That's a nice collection," the man named Joel commented as she withdrew her team.  
  
"Thank you," Rasha responded.  
  
Joel sauntered closer and glanced around before speaking to Rasha in a low voice. "That Pokémon you and yer friend brought in," he hissed. "Tell me. wazzat really a Zapdos chick?"  
  
His quiet tone made Rasha uncertain, but seeing no reason to lie to him, she nodded.  
  
"Wow," Joel murmured. "It was his, rah't? That's why he's back there wit it."  
  
"Yeah," Rasha said.  
  
"He must be quite a trainer, ta capture a rare creature like that."  
  
Rasha started to tell him that Logan hadn't captured Isaiah per se, but wanting to spare herself from trying to explain what little she knew of Logan's acquiring of the little orphan as well as preserve Logan's pride as a trainer, she simply nodded.  
  
Joel glanced around again in an almost paranoid fashion; as if he were afraid people might be listening in. When he lifted his chin the fluorescent lights caught on his gray eyes, lighting them up strangely, and for some reason that formed a growing distrust for him in Rasha. She didn't like the way he was acting, and she wasn't sure she liked the way he talked about Isaiah, either. Maybe it wasn't his intent, but the way he spoke of the baby Pokémon and the fact that he'd called her own team a "nice collection" made her think that he was the type that thought of Pokémon more as possessions than as living things. For as long as she could remember, people like that had disgusted Rasha. If he really was that type, she definitely wasn't eager to make friends with him.  
  
As if he sensed her sudden suspicions, Joel gave a nod as his parting sign and returned to his table to clear off the Styrofoam tray he'd eaten his breakfast off of. When he'd thrown it away he took his backpack and sleeping roll from the floor, thanked Nurse Joy for her hospitality, and exited. Rasha tried not to stare after him as he walked away.  
  
The whole conversation with Joel had made her think. Rasha wasn't the type who suspected everyone of having an ulterior motive, but she couldn't help wondering of the prospect of owning one of the rarest and most powerful creatures on the planet was enough to make any trainer get bad ideas.  
  
  
  
  
  
Logan didn't leave the recovery room until the sun began to set. When he did, though, he was in the best mood Rasha had ever seen him in, and for the first time in hours he accepted food with some amount of enthusiasm. While he ate, he told Rasha that Isaiah was awake and looking fine, and that although he'd need to take it easy and couldn't eat the solid treats he sometimes enjoyed between meals for a few days, he was fit to return home and could take his formula for the evening. In fact, Nurse Joy had offered to feed Isaiah before they left, but Logan had insisted on doing it himself. Even though he didn't say it, Rasha understood. Obviously he considered what had happened to Isaiah to be a result of his carelessness, and had vowed to take his responsibility toward the Zapdos all the more seriously because of it.  
  
Logan went back into the recovery room with Nurse Joy to get Isaiah. The little Zapdos seemed happy and ready to go as Logan meticulously wrapped him in a soft blue blanket.  
  
"Isaiah was a very good patient," Joy commented. "You've done a good job raising him."  
  
Logan lowered his head. "If I've done such a good job," he said quietly, "why did this happen?"  
  
"Everyone makes mistakes," she replied comfortingly.  
  
"I can't afford to make mistakes like this," Logan said. "I almost cost Isaiah his life because I was careless."  
  
Joy smiled softly. "You mustn't feel too guilty," she said. "Isaiah certainly doesn't blame you."  
  
Sighing inaudibly, Logan picked up the bundled-up fledging and cradled him like an infant against his chest. "Only because he's too young to know exactly how many mistakes I've made," he whispered to himself.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Once Logan had gathered up Isaiah, Joy handed him a small bottle. "These pills will help Isaiah with any pain he might feel from the operation," Joy said.  
  
"He doesn't seem to be in any pain."  
  
"Maybe, but we want to keep it that way," Joy replied. "This is just in case - after all, he won't be able to tell you if he is feeling pain. Give him one pill before each feeding. You'll probably have to force-feed them to him, but he won't regurgitate them if you feed him directly afterward."  
  
"Thank you," Logan said. "For everything, I mean."  
  
Joy smiled. "Chansey and I were glad to help."  
  
"Chansey!" the pink Pokémon, who had been sitting quietly by the nurse's feet until now, chimed in.  
  
  
  
The ride home was quiet, but not tense. Isaiah immediately resumed his favorite place on Logan's shoulder, whistling happily and biting affectionately at Logan's ear. Obviously, he was as overjoyed to be leaving the hospital as Logan was to be taking him away.  
  
"What're these?" Rasha asked finally as the bottle of pills Logan still clutched in his hand caught her eye.  
  
"Painkillers," Logan replied.  
  
Rasha's eyebrows rose. "He seems perfectly fine to me."  
  
In spite of himself, Logan grinned. "I know."  
  
Once they got home, Logan immediately went into the kitchen and started making up the formula. He made Rasha hold Isaiah while he was doing it and prepared the food so carefully that his actions bordered on neurotic. Somehow he managed to get it done and fed Isaiah. For once, he even cleaned up after himself. When he'd finished, he grabbed Isaiah and darted off to his room while Rasha went to the phone to order a pizza, still feeling dizzied by the surreal change in Logan's behavior. What's more: she wasn't sure she didn't like it. Smirking wryly, she ordered the pizza. When she'd finished, she called Falcon on her cell phone. When her friend answered, she quickly filled her in on Isaiah's accident and how it had affected Logan.  
  
"You're lucky you got that Pokémon to the Pokémon Center in time," Falcon said. "Crop burns are very serious and require some fast, complex surgery. It's a good thing the Pokémon Centers work for free, Rasha-I doubt very much that your friend there had the money to pay for an operation like that."  
  
"I know," Rasha sighed.  
  
"Well, if you still want me to come up," Falcon said, changing subjects, "I think I've got some time. If I leave tomorrow morning I'll be there by the next afternoon."  
  
"That's great!" Rasha said. Then she thought about it a moment and added, "But let me talk to Logan first, okay? I don't know how he'll be with letting someone else in on this."  
  
"That's fine," Falcon said. "I don't want to be there if it makes him uncomfortable. I can't help anything if he doesn't want me to."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Call me back when you've talked to him," Falcon said.  
  
"Okay. Thanks, Falcon."  
  
Immediately after she hung up the phone, Rasha went back to Logan's room. She knocked, and he let her in. Wording carefully so as not to insult his competence as a Pokémon trainer, she told him about Falcon's proposition.  
  
"It's not like I don't think you've done a good job of raising Isaiah," Rasha told him. "But Falcon is an expert, of sorts. I don't know how she knows it, but she knows more about Legendary Pokémon than most researchers who've spent their whole lives searching for them. I think it'd be good for her to come up, but she said she won't come if it makes you uncomfortable."  
  
"No," Logan said. "Isaiah almost died. I don't want anything like that--or worse-to ever happen again."  
  
"Should I call her, then?"  
  
Logan paused a moment, reviewing his last doubts. "Yes."  
  
Rasha went back out to call Falcon back, but before she could reach the phone, the doorbell rang. She went to answer and found the pizza man standing there. Quickly, she called Logan to dinner. After they'd eaten, they had to feed their Pokémon, too. By then it was a quarter to nine and Rasha, having entirely forgotten what she was supposed to do, went in to turn on the TV. She flipped channels for a while, finding nothing of interest, but when nine o'clock hit she flipped straight back to channel five for the Pokémon League news session.  
  
"Challenges are getting ready to open at the Challenge Hall. The written exams ended yesterday, and we are down to five potential masters who will battle it out for the right to challenge an Elite Four member for his or her position."  
  
"Wow," Logan muttered from behind the couch. On the screen, the announcer was rattling off the names of the five competitors as their pictures flashed onto the screen. "I didn't realize the exams were over already."  
  
"Yeah," Rasha murmured, her eyes glued to the screen as she sized up the competitors. "Do you think any of them even has a chance?"  
  
"If they made it this far, they must've either been high-ranking gym leaders or high competitors in other League competitions," Logan mused. "I'd say any one of them could pull it off."  
  
"Yeah," said Rasha. "I think. whoa! That's Koga!"  
  
"Huh? Who?"  
  
"That guy," Rasha said, pointing to a picture of a black-haired man with dark, slanting eyes just before his picture flashed away and the announcer came back on. "I remember him from when I lived in Kanto. He was the gym leader in. Fuchsia City, I think."  
  
Logan whistled. "He must've been one heck of a gym leader. I wonder how many people won badges from this guy, if he was good enough to make it into Elite Four competition."  
  
"I had no idea," Rasha admitted. "I never faced him in battle."  
  
"I didn't think you did," Logan replied, "seeing as you came from Pokémon Tech and were studying to be a researcher, anyway."  
  
"That's right," Rasha said. "Hey, what about you? Are you licensed, or what?"  
  
"I am licensed," said Logan. "And yes, I was a serious trainer before I joined Team Rocket."  
  
Rasha smiled. "Did you win any badges?"  
  
Grinning, Logan ran off to his room. He emerged shortly with a small, flat box. He opened it to reveal two badges pinned to a velvet lining. "This is the Zephyr Badge, from Violet City," he said, indicating one. "And this one is the Hive Badge from Azalea Town. That's as far as I got."  
  
"Not bad," said Rasha. "Six more of those and you could've been in the Pokémon League."  
  
"Yeah." Logan sighed.  
  
Her eyes softening, Rasha studied her dark-eyed friend. "You're a great trainer, Logan," she said gently. "What made you give it up?"  
  
Another sigh escaped Logan, and he looked at the floor. "I guess things just didn't work out," he said finally. "Maybe it was just destiny. or something. But either way, that era is over, too."  
  
For a while, they watched the announcer in silence, but the Elite Four news was over and they were now showing footage of a Pokémon juniors' tournament, something neither Rasha nor Logan had any interest in.  
  
"What did that friend of yours say?" Logan asked suddenly.  
  
Rasha eyes widened. "Omygod! I never called her back! I better go do that now!" Embarrassed, she dashed for the kitchen phone. Laughing to himself, Logan turned off the TV and followed.  
  
Rasha quickly picked up the phone and punched in the number, listening impatiently while the phone rang and rang. At last, Falcon answered, "Hello?"  
  
"Falcon, it's Rasha. Sorry it took so long to get back to you!"  
  
"That's okay. What's going on?"  
  
"Everything's been cleared up, I guess," Rasha replied. "You can come up anytime."  
  
"Like I said, I can be there by tomorrow." She hesitated a moment. "You said he's a former Rocket member, right? No connections? No remaining loyalties?"  
  
"Don't worry about your Pokémon," Rasha answered. "They'll be safe here."  
  
"All right. Just to be sure, you know?"  
  
"I understand," said Rasha. "And you really don't have to worry."  
  
"What's up?" Logan asked quietly. Rasha held up a finger, indicating that she'd only be a minute.  
  
"Is that your friend in the background?" Falcon inquired.  
  
"Yeah," said Rasha.  
  
"Anyway," said Falcon. "You can expect me by tomorrow evening, then."  
  
"Thanks, Falcon," Rasha said.  
  
"Hey, anything to help a friend."  
  
"I appreciate it," Rasha said sincerely. "See you then."  
  
"Bye, Rasha." Falcon hung up. 


	4. Adversary

CHAPTER 4-ADVERSARY  
  
Falcon was true to her word. Before dinner the next day, the doorbell rang and, knowing whom it was, Rasha ran to answer.  
  
Rasha's friend was tall and slim with shoulder-length brown hair and deep, dark blue eyes that flashed out of a fair, tan face. A Pichu clung to her shoulder-a tiny rodent Pokémon with a yellow-furred body and large, triangular ears.  
  
"Hi," Falcon greeted.  
  
"Hi." Rasha smiled. "How was your trip?"  
  
"Not bad." Falcon grinned back. "It's nice to see you again."  
  
"Same here. Come on in."  
  
Rasha stood aside to let Falcon edge in with the dark blue bag she wore slung over her shoulder. As she came inside, a strange Pokémon that Rasha hadn't noticed before followed cautiously. The Pokémon was shaped like a dog; diamond-shaped markings glowed against its shocking nail-blue fur. A mane of flowing purple fur that drifted along its back like a cape and two ribbon-like tails waving at either side of it gave it a floating appearance, as if it were walking on the bottom of a lake. A hard, elongated, crystalline crest on its head hooded its red-brown eyes. It was the most beautiful creature Rasha had ever laid eyes on.  
  
"Oh, Falcon," Rasha breathed, barely resisting the urge to stroke the Pokémon's silky coat. "Where'd you get him?"  
  
"Suicune was found injured and brought to me by a friend for medical care," Falcon replied. "He's very young. Over time, we became good friends."  
  
"A Suicune?" Rasha exclaimed. "But. aren't they.?"  
  
Falcon nodded. "I'm lucky to have him."  
  
"I'll say." Rasha offered her knuckles so the Pokémon could get her scent. As if to humor her, Suicune smelled them with his delicate white nose and then allowed Rasha to stroke his crest, closing his eyes as the woman worked her fingers into his violet mane. The fur was incredibly soft, and Rasha's fingers swam through it with ease. "Are you. using him to battle?"  
  
"Oh yes, very much so." Falcon grinned slyly. "Don't think he's just for looks-he's amazing on the battlefield."  
  
"Chu," squeaked the Pichu on Falcon's shoulder. Smiling, Falcon reached up to stroke the little creature's head.  
  
"Rasha?" Logan said inquiringly, entering the room with Isaiah on his shoulder. Catching sight of Falcon, he paused. "You must be Falcon."  
  
"I am," she replied.  
  
"I'm Logan," Logan said, carefully extending his hand. "Nice to meet you."  
  
"Likewise," said Falcon as they shook. "Is this Isaiah?"  
  
Glancing at the little yellow bird on his shoulder, Logan nodded.  
  
"Pi!" Pichu piped up, and he cautiously leaned forward to get a better look at Isaiah. The Zapdos's crest flattened a little as he noticed this new being staring at him.  
  
Falcon slowly moved closer to Logan, sweeping her eyes up and down Isaiah's body. Isaiah peered back at her with his little black-brown eyes. "He looks like he's been well-cared for," Falcon said at last. "You've got him on formula, right?" Logan nodded. "Good," Falcon said. "Are you feeding him a little regular food in between, too?"  
  
"A little," Logan said. "Usually I just feed him the regular Pokémon pellets, but sometimes I give him nuts or maybe fruit. He likes that."  
  
"That's fine," Falcon replied. "He's old enough that he can start eating regular food, but don't take him off the formula until he's ready. Usually, they just stop being interested in the formula and begin to want more solid food. Before long, you can skip the formula feedings and he won't care at all."  
  
"Okay," Logan replied.  
  
Falcon smiled. "Bring him into the kitchen so I can take a look at him," she said, taking her blue bag and heading for the kitchen with Pichu on her shoulder and Suicune at her heels. After a slight pause, Logan followed, and Rasha trailed behind him.  
  
Once in the kitchen, Logan gently plucked Isaiah off his shoulder and set him down on the table. Falcon took the seat across from him and rested her hand palm-up on the table. She began to speak quietly in a language that sounded like bird sounds turned into words, and there was another tone mixed in with the chirps, trills, and grunts-it reminded Logan a little of the noise Poliwhirl's Ice Beam attack had made when the tadpole Pokémon had frozen Opal in his battle with Rasha. At any rate, the noise seemed to interest Isaiah. He got up and waddled quickly toward Falcon, peeping curiously and studying the blue-eyed stranger with bright black eyes. Falcon motioned with her finger, speaking again in that strange mixture of noises. Logan and Rasha watched, spellbound, as Isaiah lifted first one foot and then the other while Falcon examined his talons. At another word from Falcon he rolled onto his back, letting Falcon check his weight by feeling how prominent his bones were.  
  
"How are you making him do that?" Logan asked at last.  
  
"Chicks always do what their elders tell them," was Falcon's reply. "At least, they're supposed to." She beckoned Isaiah closer. When the fledgling obeyed, she gently took hold of his wings, positioning them so they were partially spread, exposing a little of Isaiah's back. Using the forefinger and thumb of her right hand, she massaged both wings, running her fingers first in the direction of the feathers and then abruptly against them. Then she quickly dragged her fingertips along the lengths of the wings to join together in the middle. At once, tiny bolts of white electricity jumped out of either of Isaiah's wings, conjoining as they connected with Falcon's hand, the sudden crackling noise making both Rasha and Logan start. "Sugoi!" Falcon laughed, shaking her hand to relieve the tingling sensation. "Very good! You're going to be a great battler, Isaiah!" Isaiah's eyes became crescents, and he cheeped happily.  
  
"He can use electricity?" Logan exclaimed.  
  
"Not attacks. Not yet," Falcon told him. "I'm only checking to see how he's developing. At this rate, he'll be battling by the time he can fly."  
  
Logan's eyes turned to space; they became distantly jade. "Battle," he thought aloud. "I hadn't thought about teaching him battling techniques."  
  
"He'll be great," Falcon said. "His wings are developing beautifully, so he'll probably be fast. And judging by that jolt he just gave me, his special attacks are going to give a lot of trainers trouble."  
  
Deciding Falcon had finished with him, Isaiah hop-ran over to Logan and cheeped insistently. "Hungry?" Logan inquired. "Alright. I'd better feed him."  
  
"It's time for dinner," Rasha agreed. "Do you have any preferences?" she asked Falcon, who shrugged indifferently.  
  
"Pi pichu chu pi pichu!" Pichu said.  
  
"Nice try, Pichu," Falcon said. "I've already told you ice cream isn't for dinner."  
  
"Chu?"  
  
"Because it's not," Falcon replied matter-of-factly.  
  
Drooping its ears, Pichu began to sulk. "Pichuuu."  
  
Rasha laughed. "Maybe we can get ice cream after dinner."  
  
Pichu perked up at this. "Pi!" he squeaked happily.  
  
  
  
On Pichu's insistence, they ended up going out to dinner and then locating an ice cream parlor. While Pichu sat happily licking a cone of vanilla, the humans conversed.  
  
"Look here," Falcon said, sliding back into the booth with a piece of paper in her hand, which she handed to Logan and Rasha to look at.  
  
Logan studied the flier. "'Famous breeder to give lecture at Grapevine Museum'," he read.  
  
"This Dr. Hazel is one of the top breeders in Johto," Falcon said. "Her expertise goes back to way before my time as a trainer. I suggest you hear what she has to say."  
  
"This is tomorrow afternoon at 6," Rasha read. "I think we can make that. What do you think, Logan?"  
  
"Couldn't hurt," Logan said. He turned to glance at Isaiah; the little bird, as always, perched on his shoulder.  
  
"Well, that's settled then," said Rasha standing up.  
  
The sky outside darkened, and the air grew crisp and clean. While they walked along the sidewalk toward the car, Falcon asked Logan a couple questions about Isaiah: how many times a day he fed the bird formula, how much he usually ate, questions about his behavior, and so forth. She asked what brand of formula he was using, and was quick to refer a better brand.  
  
"The brand you're using is fine," she said, "but this one has better nutritional value. You might want to look into it."  
  
"We're not far from the Trainer's Junction," Rasha put in. "We could go there now before we leave."  
  
Logan shrugged. "Sure."  
  
When they found the store, though, it turned out to be next to a custom Pokéball store that Falcon and Rasha both took an immediate interest in, so Logan ended up going in alone. After trying to locate a salesman, insisting that this was indeed the brand he wanted to buy rather than a more expensive one, and waiting in line to pay, Logan couldn't wait to get out.  
  
Falcon and Rasha were still in the Pokéball place. Waiting, Logan wandered up and down the street with Isaiah, looking in store windows.  
  
"Logan Matthews?"  
  
Logan whirled around. The man who'd spoken to him was tall and gangly. His overhanging locks of brown hair shadowed his dark eyes, sunken into firm cheeks. The eyes themselves slanted inward toward a rigidly straight, short nose. Around his shoulders hung an unzipped jacket; the leather creaked when he swung his arms or bent at the waist.  
  
"Well, well," the man murmured, advancing. "It is you. And here we all thought you were dead."  
  
Logan swallowed. "Gordon. Surprised to see you here."  
  
Gordon smiled tightly. "Likewise. I suppose you know everyone's given up searching for you."  
  
Logan didn't answer.  
  
The other man's eyes gleamed in the streetlights, shining out of the darkness cast by his brows and hair. Logan's body went rigid as he realized what Gordon's eyes had fixed on. "And where'd you acquired this treasure?" he gritted. "You've been holding out on us, Logan." His hand moved toward Isaiah.  
  
Logan turned to the side and raised his hands threateningly. "Back off."  
  
Gordon chuckled. "Idiot," he said. "Don't even know what you could've had, do you?" He leered wickedly. "Or. what some of us could still have. if we wanted it badly."  
  
Furious, Logan shoved Gordon backward, forcing him to stumble backward and away from Logan's face. "You stay out of my way," he hissed fiercely. "You're not getting anything, Gordon."  
  
"You sure you want to get into this with me?" Gordon hissed back, his hand going to his belt.  
  
In a heartbeat, Logan seized Electra's Pokéball. "Don't be stupid. You know you don't stand a chance against me in a Pokémon battle."  
  
Snarling, Gordon backed down, knowing his adversary was right and not liking to admit it. "Maybe so," he bit out. "But you can't hide forever. You're a damn fool, Logan. You better watch your back." He turned, pulling the collar of his jacket up higher but still not bothering to zip it. "You're a damn fool," he called as he walked away. "You'll see."  
  
  
  
Logan sat quietly in the backseat of Rasha's car, staring hazily out the window as the vehicle hummed along the road to the museum, and tried to steady the growing uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. In the front seats, his female companions chatted animatedly. Despite his paranoia, Logan hadn't told either of them anything about his encounter with Gordon. Whether from fear of worrying them or simply from diehard instinct, he'd kept his silence about the entire incident. Understandably, though, he couldn't help but wonder if this was wise. If Gordon and the other Rockets did decide to try something, his mind had tried to reason, it would help if Falcon and Rasha were on their guard as well. That thought alone opened his mouth to speak, but then he clamped it shut again. They're talking, he thought. Why interrupt them while they're talking? Besides. nothing's going to happen. I know Gordon-he talks, but not much else. I'm working myself up for nothing.  
  
At length, the car stopped in the museum parking lot. Streams of people were already making their way through the front entrance.  
  
"We're early," Falcon remarked. "We've still got a good twenty minutes before the lecture."  
  
"Might as well look at all the exhibits, then," Rasha said.  
  
The museum was so crowded, a body could scarcely turn around; the constant roar of noise about the place gradually settled into the background, an unnoticed drone. Jostling and shoving their way through the crowd of people-mostly young trainers and breeders-the company slowly moved along the rooms.  
  
Logan halted suddenly; the gleam of fluorescent lights had made a display case catch his eye. He pushed closer to see and soon became absorbed in studying a collection of four Aerodactyl skulls. By the time he looked up, Rasha and Falcon had mysteriously vanished.  
  
Oh great, Logan thought, rising up to his tiptoes to try and see over the sea of heads. "Rasha!" he called, elbowing his way forward. The power of hundreds of other voices combined all but swallowed his. "Falcon!" he called again, knowing it was in vain. "Rasha! Falcon!" He couldn't see them anywhere. "Dammit!" Logan yelled, stomping his foot.  
  
"Ow!" Logan turned around to see a man hopping on one foot. A Murkrow, upset by his master's sudden movement, fluttered madly on his shoulder.  
  
"Uh. sorry," Logan apologized. The man glared at him.  
  
The Murkrow resettled itself and turned a keenly glittering eye on Logan. "Dammit!" it said cheerfully.  
  
Logan hurried away.  
  
Swearing loudly, he managed to move along at a fair enough pace. Poor Isaiah, frightened by all the noise and the jostling, hid in the collar of his shirt. Suddenly, he noticed a face in the crowd-Rasha's? He rose up on tiptoes.  
  
Just then, all the lights in the building went out. Startled people screamed in surprise.  
  
A loud voice rang out above the crowd: "Voltorb, Thunderwave!"  
  
Logan tried to duck for cover as the first screams erupted, and soon he, too, screamed in pain as electricity rippled through his body. His legs inadvertently buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. Isaiah began to shriek in fear, huddling against Logan's neck.  
  
Someone in the crowd reacted. "Pichu, Flash attack!"  
  
"Pichuuu CHU!" A bright light filled the room. People gasped in surprise from their positions on the floor. Surprised looking men and woman in black uniforms, exposed by the light, guarded every exit to the museum. The red R was emblazoned on all their shirts.  
  
"Attack!" The leader was unseen, but his command made all the Team Rocket members spring forward at once. People screamed and squirmed helplessly as the Rockets stripped them of their Pokéballs.  
  
With great effort, Falcon managed to rise to her knees. She forced her stiff fingers to clutch a Pokéball, and her arm to fling it forward. "Skarmory!"  
  
The huge steel bird appeared in midair. "Skar!"  
  
"Swift attack!" Falcon ordered.  
  
Skarmory opened her metal beak. Sparks of yellow light zipped from her throat, solidifying into star-shapes as they collided with the nearest Rocket member. As he cowered, trying to shield his head with his hands, Skarmory dove and sent him flying over the backs of the crowd. He hit the ground hard and didn't get up.  
  
"Go, Koffing!"  
  
Thick smoke crowded the room, choking everyone and making their eyes burn.  
  
Weight slammed into Logan's back from behind. Roaring, Logan writhed furiously beneath his attacker. Cold hands shoved his head into the hard linoleum. Isaiah screamed.  
  
"Suicune!" Falcon wheezed, letting the Pokéball roll weakly from her fingers. "Gust attack!"  
  
Out of nowhere, a wind sprang up in the room, chasing the smoke out of the open windows.  
  
Slowly, Logan opened his watering eyes; his chest burned fiercely from the Koffing's noxious attack. He felt as if someone had impaled him with a frozen knife.  
  
The Rockets were gone. And so was Isaiah.  
  
  
  
One of the museum staff must've called the paramedics. Aids from the Pokémon Center were called in with Paralyze Heal to cure the effects of the Thunderwave attack. Police cars also arrived on the scene to question the witnesses.  
  
Having been treated, Rasha shoved her way through the crowd. "Logan!" she called.  
  
Falcon tugged gently on Rasha's shoulder. "Over here," she said, pointing.  
  
Rasha and Falcon shouldered between people. At last, two bodies moved apart to reveal the dark-haired man.  
  
One look at Logan made Rasha's heart skip a beat. He didn't even have to speak for her to know that something devastating had happened to him-his wide, vacant eyes, two frozen ellipses, stared out of an ashen gray face. Stock-still he stood, hands dangling listlessly at his sides, staring into space as if someone had ripped some cord out of his brain and now he had shut down.  
  
"What happened, Logan?" Rasha asked.  
  
Logan, who looked as if he hadn't even seen the two women approach, very slowly turned his head. His eyes trailed behind his head's motion, hesitantly sliding upwards to meet Rasha's.  
  
Rasha held her breath. His eyes had tears in them, and she already knew what she was going to hear.  
  
Logan, who knew she knew, forced the words out anyway beyond his sorrow-choked throat. "They took him," he said solemnly, and then his face crumpled, his last courage shattered by the utterance. "They took him!" he sobbed fiercely, looking down.  
  
Helplessly, her stomach sinking, Rasha turned to Falcon, but her friend had looked away.  
  
"Logan." Rasha tried, but she stopped there. Words were lost to her.  
  
Logan clenched his eyes shut, wrestling for control of his features. A half-sobbed mumble escaped him, unintelligible. Rasha didn't ask him to repeat it.  
  
With a small sigh, Falcon carefully and firmly took Logan by the shoulder. "Let's go," she said to Rasha, her voice and face devoid of all emotion.  
  
Numbly, wanting to protest, Rasha obeyed.  
  
  
  
There was total silence on the drive home, as each human was submerged in his or her own solemn contemplation. Only the humming of the vehicle filled the boundless quiet. Alone in the backseat, Logan had ceased to cry, but he also refused to talk. Rasha stared sadly at his reflection in her rearview mirror out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't allowed himself to cry much. Falcon hadn't spoken to anyone, and as she fixed her gaze on a point beyond the car window, it was impossible to read her emotions.  
  
They got out of the car when they reached their destination, filing into Rasha's house as quietly and somberly as a funeral procession. No one knew what to say to anyone.  
  
At last, Rasha couldn't stand it anymore. "Logan, are you okay?" she asked.  
  
Logan said nothing.  
  
Rasha swallowed. "Logan."  
  
"They stole him," he hissed, making Rasha start at the ferocity in his voice. "That. that. I knew." he stammered. "I'm such a jackass!"  
  
Before Rasha could think of anything else to say, she was startled to see Falcon's piercing azure stare in front of Logan. "Did you know about this before hand?" she asked quietly.  
  
Logan flinched and looked down in shame, biting his lip.  
  
Falcon's eyes flickered. "When?"  
  
"While you were in the store last night," he mumbled. "I ran into someone I knew from Team Rocket."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Rasha demanded a bit too sharply.  
  
"I don't know," Logan moaned. "I don't know! I knew I should've. but." He paused. "I'm just so stupid!"  
  
"Calm down," Falcon reasoned. "It's over and done with. let's just concentrate on getting Isaiah back."  
  
Rasha swallowed, feeling her heart pick up pace. She had a distinct feeling of impending danger, but she also knew she couldn't refuse to help- no matter what. "That's right," she said confidently.  
  
Logan locked gazes with her for a millisecond. Rasha held fast against his black-emerald stare, trying to communicate her conviction to the cause-that she would really do anything in her power to get the baby Zapdos back from Team Rocket.  
  
"Now," Falcon began thoughtfully. "Do you know where they've taken him?"  
  
"I guess. back to headquarters," Logan said slowly. "In Viridian City."  
  
"Are you sure they wouldn't take him someplace closer?" Rasha inquired. "I've heard they have bases everywhere. even here in Johto."  
  
Logan shook his head. "Not for something this big. Giovanni will want Isaiah there, in his stronghold, where he can keep a personal eye on him."  
  
"Fine," Falcon murmured, her eyes glazing thoughtfully.  
  
Logan and Rasha stared at Falcon, expecting an instantly formulated plan to come out of her mouth. Instead, she sighed and shook her head. "Give me the night to think about it," she said, starting for her sleeping roll. "Tomorrow, I promise I'll have thought of at least something." She hoisted her things and headed out of the room, with Pichu on her shoulder.  
  
Rasha fidgeted anxiously, but she was also tired. "Come on, Logan," she said. "She's right. we should sleep before we do anything."  
  
"I. guess so."  
  
Rasha and Logan parted in the hallway, heading to their respective rooms, bending with the weight that had settled over the house.  
  
  
  
Needless to say, Rasha couldn't sleep, no matter how long she lay awake. She threw the covers off and pulled them on again, over and over. It seemed like every time she stopped moving, the myriad of thoughts and worries came flooding back in an unstoppable multitude.  
  
At last, Rasha impulsively flung off the covers and quietly left her room with the intention of going into the kitchen for some water. She wasn't really thirsty; she was just too restless to sleep, and getting water would give her an excuse to move around a little. Walking heel-toe to deaden the sound of her footsteps, she crept out into the hallway and turned into the living room. But as she tiptoed silently across the carpet, a previously unnoticed silhouette caught her eye. Rasha jumped, startled, but recovered quickly. The familiar shadow, resting in silent contemplation on the couch, was turned to face the window.  
  
Rasha saddened. What could she say to Logan? She just didn't have the words for it, but she knew she had to try, and so she tentatively approached his dark figure in the night. Her reluctant throat let slip the whispered word, "Logan?"  
  
Logan turned slowly. The streams of silver that glistened on his cheeks struck Rasha's heart painfully before he turned away in shame.  
  
Rasha's words were stolen away again. "Are. you going to be okay?" she managed. It sounded so trite.  
  
"Yes. I think so," was the soft reply.  
  
Feeling helpless, Rasha started to leave. Just before she moved out of range, though, a cold and desperate hand seized her wrist.  
  
"Stay," Logan whispered. "Please."  
  
Her heart hammering, Rasha sat down on the couch next to him.  
  
After a lengthy silence, Logan said, "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to hold it in any longer."  
  
"No," Rasha whispered back. "It's all right. It's healthier if you just let it come, I think."  
  
"I'm just so angry." Logan's voice was airy and distant. "I'm so mad at myself right now. I. I can't believe that I could." His throat closed off; the hand that rested near Rasha knotted into a hard fist.  
  
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Rasha tried to console him. "It's really not your fault Logan."  
  
"Oh, Rasha," he said sorrowfully. "You don't even know the half of it."  
  
Rasha's throat burned to ask for answers, but she sat silently, hoping that Logan would tell her on his own-it seemed like he would.  
  
Logan sighed, looking down at his restless hands. "It was so long ago," he began slowly. "There had been sightings around this place for a long time now. legendary Pokémon were being seen around the mountain. So naturally, Team Rocket came to check it out. Six of us were sent here to search the mountain. Our only weapons were seizure guns. paralysis weapons, to immobilize the creatures so they could be captured. I didn't think anything of it. to me it was just another assignment. another paycheck.  
  
"The group split up to cover more area. Most of them went to the surrounding area, where most of the sightings had been, but I wandered toward the mountain first. It wasn't long before. before I encountered the first Zapdos." He paused for a moment. Getting the story out, and precisely worded, was a struggle. Rasha gently rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to help him continue. Finally, Logan found his voice again.  
  
"The Zapdos. it didn't see me at first. It was just flying around. circling, I guess. looking for prey, maybe. I don't know. Anyway, I hid in the bushes and when I had the opportunity I fired with the gun on a low power setting. I missed, and the Zapdos hurled a Thunderbolt at me. I got away from the first one and fired again, but the thing was flying around so fast, it kept dodging. It started dive-bombing me. tore my shoulder open with its talons. I started to get angry. even more when it hit me with its Thunderbolt. I fired again and again, running down my cartridge. Finally, I struck its wing, but the setting must have been too low. it didn't work. That's about when the second Zapdos showed up. Now there were two of them on me. I kept firing and getting nothing. they kept electrocuting me, again and again, and trying to rake my head with their talons. I was. furious. I just kept getting more and more angry, and finally. finally." Logan closed his eyes, his breath coming hard. "I. dropped out my cartridge. put in a new one. and I turned the setting up to a lethal level. And. I fired.  
  
"The first shot just about tore the one bird's wing off. It swerved and started going down. I didn't stop firing. I shot again and again and again," Logan choked. "When the first Zapdos had crashed to the ground, I turned on the other one. it was trying to flee, but I hit it in the back. Its spine must have snapped. it jerked and just started falling, and while it fell I shot it again through the head." Tears were now streaming freely from Logan's eyes as he recounted the events. "One Zapdos had crashed into the trees. Its skull was completely smashed in. And the other one. the other one was." He sobbed.  
  
Rasha moved very close to him and gently wound her arms around his shoulders, holding him close to her. She felt Logan's chest expand as he inhaled deeply and then released his air, relaxing into her grip. One of his hands slid over Rasha's clasped-together ones, gripping her fingers gently. "The worst part," he whispered, "was that even then, I didn't care. Even when I saw those mangled corpses-my doing-I didn't even feel like I'd done something wrong. That's. that's how inhuman I was. I didn't care about anything. anyone."  
  
Rasha closed her eyes and leaned her head into his shoulder. He inclined his own head slightly, resting his cheek against her hair.  
  
"It wasn't until I went back to the mountain to check for others," Logan whispered. "I found the cave, and inside was the abandoned nest. And in it was Isaiah. just a tiny ball of shaking yellow feathers. crying for the parents that would never return to feed their baby. And at that instant, I realized just how evil what I'd done was. And it wasn't just the Zapdos. it was everything. The stealing. my entire life on Team Rocket. everything I'd ever done had been. had been a sin. All I've ever done is hurt people. I felt. like a disease."  
  
"No, Logan," Rasha whispered, reaching up to stroke his hair.  
  
"Yes," he whispered back. "It's true. Everything I touch. it dies."  
  
"That's not true," Rasha whispered.  
  
"It is."  
  
"No. Look at us now. You're touching me now, and I'm far from dying."  
  
Logan was silent for a long while. His grip around Rasha's waist and shoulders tightened. "Thank you. For everything, Rasha."  
  
Rasha closed her eyes. "I promise you, Logan," she said. "We'll get Isaiah back."  
  
"I know, Rasha. I know." 


	5. Voyage of the Lady Goldeen

CHAPTER 5-VOYAGE OF THE LADY GOLDEEN  
  
The very next afternoon, at approximately 1:00 p.m., the three comrades boarded a magnet train bound for Cherrygrove City Station. According to the plan they had conceived earlier, they would take a bus to New Bark Town upon arriving at the station. From there, they would rent a boat at New Bark Harbor and head for Viridian Port in Kanto. Their final destination would be Team Rocket headquarters.  
  
Silent tension overshadowed all three passengers, weighted with the risk involved in what they were doing and the sheer outlandishness of the situation. Any conversation would prove either petty or cause more anxiety to the people involved.  
  
Sliding her eyes to her right, Rasha could see the pale, translucent reflection of Logan's face in the train's window beyond the back of his head. His solemn eyes floated over the thick glass; the glare from the train's lights penetrated and distorted the image. Sitting in the seat adjacent to him, Rasha had transformed into a block of wood.  
  
When the train finally came to a halt, Rasha blinked dazedly, experiencing a sense of lost time resulting from the silent train ride. She, Logan, and Falcon exited the train station and walked for several blocks to a bus station. The bus ride from Cherrygrove to New Bark Town proved about as eventful as the train ride. By the time they reached their stop, Pichu had fallen asleep.  
  
At length, the group reached New Bark Harbor. Several boats knocked softly against rows of splintery wooden docks. The water-an amorphous plane of aluminum--flashed unenthusiastically as it sloshed in its bed. Even the few people gathered there appeared listless and windblown; they milled about wordlessly, seeing to their vessels or perhaps just looking out across the bleak water.  
  
Falcon led the way to a ramshackle stand with chipped white paint and faded letters reading "boat rental" painted over the open window. Behind the counter, a man who looked to be in his late twenties slouched and absentmindedly puffed on his cigarette. He was a lean and wiry gentleman with a thin face that made his eyes appear large and a transparent outline of a mustache below his nose. His eyes were as gray and apathetic as the ocean. When Falcon came over and put her hands on the counter, though, he straightened up, flicked his cigarette away, and waited.  
  
"Hi, we'd like to rent a boat," Falcon told him cheerfully. "How much would it cost to rent one for two days?"  
  
The man rubbed thoughtfully at his thin non-mustache and asked, "Where are y'all headed to?"  
  
Without hesitation, Falcon replied, "Viridian Port."  
  
"That's quite a' ways. Take a good part of three hours ta make it," he commented. But without any further questioning, he slid over to the cash register and, after Falcon had paid the fee, handed over the key to their rental, which he explained could be located at dock three.  
  
The Lady Goldeen turned out to be a much nicer craft than Rasha had anticipated, with a coat of paint that looked fresh and a room below deck. The navigational system looked about as easy to operate as the NASA space shuttle, but Falcon insisted she'd driven boats before.  
  
Logan shifted uneasily around the dock, seemingly unable to keep still. Rasha considered this the extended result of Isaiah's abduction until they had been out for twenty minutes, and all of a sudden his face started changing colors. Suddenly, he lunged for the side of the boat and emptied his stomach's contents into the ocean.  
  
Rasha rolled her eyes and put her hand over her face. "Logan. I told you you'd need the Dramamine."  
  
Logan, doubled over the boat's railing, could only moan piteously in reply.  
  
Once he'd been moved below deck to wait out the rest of the trip, Rasha joined Falcon at the helm. "What happens once we reach Viridian?"  
  
"We rent a car," Falcon said evenly, without taking her eyes off the horizon. "We'll have to drive it down toward Pallet Town-we'll leave the road before we get there. When it gets so we can't get the car around anymore, we'll hide it and go on foot. But once we reach Team Rocket headquarters, it's up to Logan to get us in and out."  
  
Rasha grimaced anxiously; to relieve the tension, she tried to think more about the humor of the situation. They were about to rob a secret organization of thieves. What irony.  
  
"You know, Rasha."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Logan. he's unusual, isn't he? I mean, I don't think I've ever known anyone as sensitive as he is."  
  
Rasha laughed before she could stop herself. "Sensitive? Come on, Falcon. Logan's a lot of things, but sensitive isn't one of them."  
  
"No? That was my first impression of him."  
  
Rasha said, "Well, I think he's just having a hard time. We had that accident with Isaiah, and then this happened not long after."  
  
"Well, that's what I'm talking about," Falcon replied. "Him and Isaiah. No one I know above the age of ten openly expresses that much affection toward their Pokémon-especially men. And with his way of life, too."  
  
Rasha looked up. The sea, pearl gray under the cotton sky, reminded her of carved ivory. "Logan loves Isaiah," she said. "He's not on Team Rocket anymore, either." Then she added, "He's different now."  
  
"He didn't have Isaiah when he was with the team, did he?"  
  
"No. actually, he quit after he got Isaiah. That's what he told me, anyway. Isaiah was what made him quit."  
  
"Mm." The glass reflected off Falcon's eyes. When Rasha looked at her sideways, she could see the transparent area between the cornea and the sclera. She could see right through it.  
  
A few moments passed before Falcon said, "Pokémon do change people."  
  
"Yeah," Rasha agreed, and saw again Logan in the Pokémon Center waiting for Isaiah to emerge.  
  
"Especially kids," Falcon said. "They can make them more or less responsible. Sometimes both. And they're intelligent-very intelligent. It's like. raising children, almost."  
  
The vaporous silence, thickened by the liquid thrashing of the water, settled back over the Lady Goldeen. To Rasha's great relief, Falcon asked no more questions about Logan. She was afraid she might answer them, and the answers were not hers to give. After awhile she left Falcon at the helm and slipped below deck to check on Logan.  
  
  
  
An impending storm stifled all signs of life at Viridian Port. It seemed to the three weary passengers that the Lady Goldeen was the sole boat moored there. Once the vessel had been tied, thumping restlessly against the docks like a leashed dog, Rasha, Logan, and Falcon entered the city.  
  
Though most of its residents remained inside, hiding from the brooding gray sky, Viridian managed to be lively and populated without seeming stuffy. Pedestrians roamed the streets in jackets and sweatshirts, glancing anxiously at the sky as they walked to meet unknown appointments. Falcon looked up, expecting to see the great ornate roof of the Viridian Gym pointing above the city before she remembered that it had collapsed some time before.  
  
Now, sitting in a booth at Marcy's Fast Food Diner, Falcon let Rasha and Logan's conversation slip into the drone of chatter and the whir of ceiling fans. She stared into her soda cup, swirling the straw mechanically-to all appearances deep in thought. Rasha and Logan left her alone, thinking that she must be meditating their plan. Logan missed the occasional upward slip of her eye, as well as the analytic gaze behind it. Falcon was contemplating Logan. There was something about him and Isaiah- something Rasha knew, but would not tell. And Falcon wasn't sure if she should find out before she enlisted to help him.  
  
When they left the diner, Falcon's watch read 4:15. They didn't need to be-no, they shouldn't be at Team Rocket Headquarters before dark. Still, Falcon wanted to see the new building. It would help her once they actually got inside.  
  
"Well," she told her companions outside the diner's door, "I'm going to see about renting a car-you should just try to stay around this street, I suppose. Look in the shops."  
  
"We could come with you," Rasha said.  
  
"No, that's okay," was the calm reply. "You guys just relax for awhile. I'll get the car. It's no problem." Falcon turned and began walking briskly away. "Have fun. I'll be back."  
  
"Okay. bye, then," Rasha called. "Well. come on, Logan."  
  
Logan watched Falcon until she turned the corner before he followed Rasha. Walking slowly down the street, the collar of her jacket turned up against the cold, Falcon realized her casual attitude just didn't have the right affect on him. You couldn't trick a trickster, she thought, and Logan was most likely too experienced at exuding false calm to be fooled when someone else did the same. Her feelings of suppressed mistrust were mutual. In the shadow of her jacket, Falcon smiled faintly as she reached up to stroke Pichu's fur. She knew a cynic when she saw one-she'd been one long enough.  
  
I'm not very good at it, though, Falcon mused. I still want to trust, after all.  
  
  
  
"Falcon's acting strange," Rasha commented. In response to Logan's questioning look, she added, "She's too quiet."  
  
Logan cocked an eyebrow. "That woman is always quiet," he replied in a don't-be-silly tone. "You couldn't make her put two words together if you had a case of dynamite in one hand and a lighted match in the other."  
  
"I'm serious here, Logan," Rasha said, giving him a small, reprimanding shove.  
  
"All right. I have to admit I almost see what you mean. But. it's a serious situation, so I don't blame her," Logan responded.  
  
"All right," Rasha conceded.  
  
Having felled the conversation, Rasha employed her senses to observe the business structures that stood at attention along the sidewalk. Having time to kill expanded inevitability's debilitating grip-so close to their destination, she and Logan had begun to squirm beneath its fingers. Rasha felt that second to the desire to escape or end the situation was the urge to sit and collect her thoughts.  
  
"You want to go in there?" Logan asked, stopping.  
  
Rasha followed his finger to a small place on the corner-the sign over the door read "Kozy Kafé." Deciding she would like a hot coffee to combat the cold air, Rasha nodded, and the two of them crossed the street.  
  
Before she got one foot in the door, however, Logan grabbed Rasha's shoulder. "What?" she asked.  
  
Logan pointed. Rasha looked at the shop next to the coffee place-a Pokémart. However, she couldn't figure out what Logan was staring at.  
  
"The guy at the register now," Logan prompted.  
  
Rasha looked again. The man at the counter-a tall, scrawny individual with matted brown hair-lay a pricetagged firearm on the counter. A seizure rifle, Rasha realized.  
  
"Doesn't he look familiar to you?" Logan said in a low voice.  
  
Craning her neck, Rasha studied the man's profile. His nose pointed sharply out of a thin face, covering a smear of stubble on his upper lip. The old black jacket he wore looked familiar.  
  
"My God," Rasha whispered as the light came on. "It's the boat rental guy! He followed us!"  
  
The door to the Pokémart stood open. Logan and Rasha crept forward and listened as the clerk asked to see the man's license. "You have some kind of pest problem?" he asked.  
  
"Somethin' like that," the boat rental man replied.  
  
"Well, good luck with it. You need cartridges or anything?" the clerk asked as he rung up the rifle.  
  
"Naw," the man said. "I got it taken care of."  
  
Logan's face had gone gray. "I don't like this," he said. "I don't like this one bit."  
  
Rasha frowned. There was something else about this man that had pulled a trigger in her mind. His mannerisms. and that accent.  
  
"Shit!" Rasha hissed. "Joel!"  
  
"What?" Logan demanded.  
  
Joel was heading toward the door, so Rasha pulled Logan inside the coffee shop. They sat down at a small round table and Rasha told Logan about her conversation at the Pokémon Center the day after Isaiah had gone in.  
  
"So," Logan said darkly, "he could be out to rescue Isaiah for himself." His left hand curled into a fist on the table. "That bastard."  
  
Rasha's eyebrows knotted thoughtfully. "As far as we know, he's by himself. He'll never get in and out of that building."  
  
"Just an overconfident prig who won too many battles in a row?" Logan thought aloud.  
  
"Or," Rasha said, "maybe he's waiting for us to do that part for him."  
  
"And then he'll jump us," Logan concluded, his face clouding.  
  
"Even then, we have him outnumbered," Rasha pointed out.  
  
"Then he's either an extremely skilled trainer, or he's an idiot," Logan said. "Or he could be planning to get us stunned with that gun he's buying." He massages his temples. "This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"  
  
They sat in brooding silence until Rasha happened to glance out the window and noticed headlights moving deliberately along the side of the street. She and Logan stepped outside, and before long the car pulled over in front of them. "Sorry it took so long," Falcon said from the driver's seat. "Hop in."  
  
While Rasha and Logan slid into the backseat, they took turns filling Falcon in on the situation with Joel.  
  
"A tagalong on our little escapade," Falcon sighed. "I wouldn't worry too much-he is just one man."  
  
The sun set as they drove. The droning of the car's engine filled the heavy, empty air inside the vehicle. Gradually, asphalt beneath the tires became dirt-the engine whined more and more as hills sprang up in the terrain. Green and gray mountains loomed closer and closer, a ridge of misshapen spears thrust into the marshy fields of cloud above. Trees swarmed around, laying shadow bars across the uneven road. Raising his head, Logan beheld a cap on the treetops; a seamlessly shingled point that floated on the waving leaves--a black roof that marked their destination.  
  
Falcon stopped the engine. "The point of no return," she whispered. 


	6. Break and Enter

*I would like to apologize for my lateness in posting. Due to the combined effects of school, writer's block, and plain forgetfulness, completing this chapter took longer than expected. Thank you for your patience. ^_^  
  
~Mirkana Falcon~  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 6—BREAK AND ENTER  
  
Even in the cover of darkness, Logan felt exposed and afraid as he waited in the trees, watching the guards. Every time one of them glanced up he tensed, sure they would spot his white uniform in the dark forest. If they had noticed anything, however, they thought nothing of it. Both remained oblivious to Team Rocket's prodigal son—or rather, its Trojan horse.  
  
Logan allowed himself to look down at the R on his shirt. He'd broken a promise he'd made to himself never to don the uniform again, but now it was saving Isaiah. Falcon had brought it along, hidden in that blue bag she carried everywhere. He imagined she'd predicted his distaste for that red R.  
  
"10:27," someone—he couldn't tell if it was Rasha or Falcon—whispered from behind him. Logan gritted his teeth. If no one had changed the schedule, the guards would change at 10:30—not a moment earlier or later, he thought, remembering nights when he'd stood watch himself. That was the most painstaking part—waiting there at attention for three hours, growing stiff in your spot as you waited for your watch to strike that exact moment. Nothing ever happened on guard duty. Logan slipped his hand into his pocket. If he timed it accurately enough, the guards would stay bored.  
  
Three endless minutes later, the left guard looked down at his watch. Both guards stood up straight and stretched. Then, moving slower than Slugma, they walked to the left and disappeared around the side of the building.  
  
Logan trotted to the heavy doors. Heart hammering, he pulled a bent- out-of-shape paper clip out of his pocket and stuck it in the lock. It scraped metallically against the inside of the lock, a series of rasping clicks that ended with a final click as the clip lifted the catch. Logan pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing and locking it behind him. No one would come for him. The only alarm system in Team Rocket headquarters were the trigger alarms inside the building—one for fire, the other for security. No automatic alarm was connected to the doors. He remembered one time when a few employees requested that Giovanni purchase one of these systems. The Team Rocket leader had replied that if money were to be spent on an alarm system, it would have to come out of salaries. Besides, there were already guards.  
  
Logan walked down the entrance hall into a carpeted room with chairs and low tables—the lobby. A uniformed man exited the right elevator. Logan noted his gloves—rubber.  
  
"Hey." Logan approached the green-haired stranger. "Can you tell me where the supply room is?"  
  
"What do you need?" the man asked with little suspicion.  
  
"I'm from the Fuchsia base," Logan said. "Came to pick up some supplies…"  
  
"Oh yeah…Fuchsia. Just go down that hall to your left there all the way to the end, then turn right and it's the third door on your left," the man said. "I'm Fuller, by the way. Jason Fuller."  
  
"Mitsuhiro Kusakabi," Logan replied, knowing Jason Fuller would never remember it.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Fuller replied.  
  
Logan brushed past Fuller and turned left. On the way, Logan lifted Fuller's keycard and pocketed it.  
  
When he reached the supply room, he swiped the card and entered. A camera mounted on the wall followed him as he walked past. Someone had pushed a shelf into its path, keeping it from turning all the way to the left.  
  
"Hey." Logan nearly had a heart attack. He forced himself to turn slowly toward the open door. One of the guards had stuck his head inside. "Hey, you," he said. "This door is supposed to stay closed."  
  
Logan thought fast. "I know but… ugh, don't you smell that?" he asked, waving his hand in front of his face. "Someone must of spilled Gloom pollen in here or something. I can't breathe in here."  
  
The guard sniffed the air suspiciously. "I don't smell anything."  
  
"If you come in here, you will," Logan said. "It really reeks."  
  
The guard frowned. "Well… all right, but don't forget to close it after it airs out." He stepped out of the doorway and disappeared from view.  
  
Sighing mentally in relief, Logan leaned against the wall next to the door and waited, listening. Then he heard one of the guards whisper inaudibly, and the other one yell:  
  
"Who's there? You stay right there! I'm warning you! Hey! Hey!"  
  
Logan tensed up. He heard Pokéballs breaking open and scuffling footsteps. Silence followed. Then Rasha and Falcon entered the open door. Logan quickly pulled them into the corner.  
  
"Stay over here," he said. "There's a camera in this room, but it can't see us here—there's a bookshelf blocking it."  
  
"That was a good idea," Rasha commented.  
  
"Someone else's work, not mine," Logan told her. He glanced outside, checking the unconscious guards. "Okay, now listen," he whispered conspiratorially. "There are three rooms in this building where Pokémon are held, and right now I think Isaiah could be in any one of them. The first room is on the second floor. That's the holding room—pretty basic; it's just cages and tanks. Then there's another area—it's not in this building; it'll be out back—where they keep really large or really dangerous Pokémon. The last one is the lab, which is pretty self- explanatory—that's where they run scientific tests. That's on the second floor, too." Logan paused to check the guards again. "That means if we split up, we can cover all three rooms."  
  
"I'll go to the experimental wing," Falcon said.  
  
"Okay… I'll go out back. That leaves the holding area to you, Rasha," Logan said.  
  
"All right," Rasha said.  
  
"Hold on," Falcon said, dropping her bag and unzipping it. "We'll need protection." She pulled out a weapon and tossed identical ones to Rasha and Logan, along with square cartridges.  
  
Logan held his weapon vertically, his fingers finding the trigger. "Seizure rifles," he muttered.  
  
"Just in case you need to defend yourself," Falcon replied, slapping the cartridge into the gun's underbelly.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Logan jammed his own cartridge into place. "For Isaiah," he said. The two women nodded.  
  
"Okay," Logan whispered. "Let's go—"  
  
"Hold it," Rasha said. "We can't go out into the hall. We're not in uniform."  
  
"Yeah, and what about the camera?" Falcon agreed. "It'll see us if we walk past it."  
  
"Damn, you're right." Logan frowned and his eyebrows turned down thoughtfully. Then his eyes light up. "There's a fire escape you can use to get to the second floor. In fact… that'll put you right in the holding room! Of course…" he winced a little "… you'll have to look around pretty fast; the cameras'll spot you and there are probably people in there…"  
  
"Don't worry about us," Rasha assured him.  
  
Logan knew he wouldn't be able to help worrying, but he nodded anyway.  
  
After a cautious peek outside, the three scuttled out the door. The fire escape—a massive, unsteady looking structure that looked like a snake make out of bars and wire—clung to the side of the building, the top platform resting on the sill of a lighted window on the second floor. Cautiously they approached it, on the alert for any sign of danger.  
  
When they reached the stair's foot, Falcon slid her weapon into her belt and began to climb. Before Rasha could follow, Logan's hand touched her shoulder, pulling her back.  
  
"Rasha…" The unfamiliar look in his eyes when he whispered her name made Rasha's heart flutter. He looked frightened, but not the way he had when Isaiah had burned his crop—there was softness in his eyes, a sort of mix between worry and affection, and Rasha realized her heart was aching for him. He didn't seem able to articulate this feeling, but instead he reached out and briefly squeezed her fingers in his hand. Then, ducking his head, he ran away and disappeared around the corner.  
  
After a few moments of wondering silence, Rasha looked up to see Falcon's eyes glowing down at her from halfway up the stairway. Her face turned hot and she began to climb the steps briskly. Soon, she and Falcon peeked over the windowsill and into the living room.  
  
The holding room was bare of everything but cages—iron-barred cells, various terrariums, glass capsules, and water-filled tanks crowded the room. A different Pokémon inhabited each tank, each one looking the very picture of neglect and misery. The creatures slumped gloomily inside their confinements, staring out with longing eyes and most likely dreaming of the masters they would never see again.  
  
On the left-hand side of the room, two black-uniformed Rockets were huddled around a cage. Looking closely, the women thought it looked like they were putting some sort of Pokémon—a Sandshrew or Sandslash, it appeared—through the door of a barred cage. Amazingly, the Pokémon wasn't struggling. Rasha guessed it must be under the effects of Stun Spore.  
  
Falcon, meanwhile, was struggling with the window—it wasn't locked, but seemed difficult to work with. Frustrated, she pulled it upward with all her strength. It gave way with a loud, dismaying creak.  
  
Slithering like an Ekans, Falcon dove through the window headfirst. Adrenaline took hold and Rasha leaped through right after her. The Rockets flailed clumsily getting to their feet with shocked expressions on their faces.  
  
Falcon swept back her long jacket, placing her hand on the butt of her seizure rifle. "Don't move!" she shouted.  
  
Too late—the male Rocket, a husky young man with buzzed black hair, was already sputtering into his radio. "This is Byron! There's a break- in! Two people are brea—"  
  
"Pichu!" Falcon screamed.  
  
A yellow blur of lighting leaped from Falcon's jacket to the ground. The air exploded with electricity and the Rockets' screams, and when the insane flashes of light had ceased they lay on the ground, still seizing.  
  
"Zelda, Hypnosis!" Rasha cried, throwing her Pokéball.  
  
The Drowzee landed before the toppled Rockets with a heavy thud. Grinning mischievously beneath her long nose, she began to wave her three- fingered hands in time with her low chant: "Drrrow-zee, Drrrow-zee, Drrrow- zee…" She clapped her paws together, and the uniformed man and woman shut their eyes in unison. Soon their soft snores filled the air.  
  
Falcon grimaced. "We're still too lat.e… that call already got through." She looked up and noticed, with a small bit of relief, that Pichu's electric attack had already shorted out the security camera. "Do you see Isaiah?"  
  
"Not yet. There's tons of cages in here."  
  
Nervously, Falcon turned her head toward the door, which was, thankfully, closed. Hopefully no one right outside had heard their comrades' screams. "Keep looking. I'm going to the lab. Come on, Pichu!" The eager little mouse bounded onto Falcon's shoulder.  
  
"Try not to be seen!" Rasha urged.  
  
"It may be a little late," Falcon said dryly. She moved to the door and listened. Were those footsteps she heard coming toward her? Probably not… they didn't sound panicked. It wouldn't be long, though. "You better be prepared for a fight," she told Rasha.  
  
"I think I can handle them," Rasha said. "Go, Falcon."  
  
Falcon detached a Pokéball from her belt and opened it. The beam of light that spilled out of it deposited a small, sleeping Abra in her arms.  
  
"Okay, Abra," she whispered. "Wakey-wakey, baby. Time to work."  
  
Falcon waited until she felt the press of Abra's mind. The Pokémon's telepathic abilities were far from sophisticated—feelings and pictures, mostly, nothing complicated like words—but the press was enough confirmation.  
  
"Okay, now listen, sweetie—this building has moved a little, but it's still the same, so you should be able to take me anywhere I want to go, right?" Falcon waited for the confirmation feeling again. "Right. Now, I want you to take me—are you listening carefully?"  
  
A few second's pause, and then the Abra's foxlike head bobbed up and down once.  
  
"Good. I want you to take me to where the Pokémon are that have something different in their bodies. Understand? You remember what I'm talking about, right?"  
  
There was a long, murky pause. Just when Falcon was about to explain it again, though, Abra responded with a clear thought that, though wordless in itself, was easily translated by Falcon's mind: Bad medicine.  
  
Falcon's mouth tightened grimly. "That's right," she whispered. "Bad medicine. Can you take me to the bad medicine Pokémon, Abra?"  
  
Abra pondered for a moment longer. Then a low buzz filled Falcon's ears as psychic energy built up around her, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickle. The world darkened for a split second, as if Falcon had blinked, but when her sight returned the room had changed. Now the floor tile was white, and there were no cages to be seen. Instead, neat shelves and cabinets lined the walls. Hulking pieces of machinery bedecked with wires, knobs, and tubes slumped against the walls. The air smelled clean and sterile, like a hospital.  
  
There was not a Pokémon in sight, but Falcon remembered where to find Team Rocket's guinea pigs. She walked past the orderly shelves and cabinets to a door in the back of the room.  
  
As Falcon reached out for the handle, it suddenly began to turn. Falcon's feet rooted to the floor as a white-sleeved arm pushed the door outward. A blonde-haired man exited, busily writing on the clipboard in his hands while his glasses slipped further and further down the bridge of his nose.  
  
If Falcon had remained silent and frozen, the scientist might have walked right out of the room without noticing her. However, when the shock finally reached her she drew in her breath rather sharply. The blonde man jumped; his clipboard and pen slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor.  
  
Falcon swore mentally. She put her right hand over the butt of her gun and hurriedly put her finger over her lips. Of course, the scientist didn't pay much attention; he was still panicking and flailed clumsily until his back was against the wall. His hand fumbled for the alarm lever on the wall. A surge of adrenaline seized Falcon and she drove her fist into his goggle-eyed face; his nose crunched under her knuckles and he crumpled to the ground. Falcon waited for a moment and then nudged him with her foot, but he was out cold.  
  
Jeezus, I hope I didn't break his nose too bad, Falcon thought. What'd he do to me?  
  
Even though the scientist hadn't managed to pull the alarm, the security cameras still would've seen everything. The whole building would be on alert pretty soon, and she needed to buy enough time to get a good look at the lab's Pokémon before the time to run came. There was a ring of keys on the scientist's belt. Falcon pulled them off and started to step over his body on the way to the door, then took his radio as an afterthought before locking the lab's door. The camera's head swiveled back and forth, following Falcon as she walked. She stopped to stare for a long moment into its glassy eye before raising her seizure rifle and blinding it.  
  
The door to Giovanni's office creaked cautiously open, the grunt behind it poking his head in before entering. "Sir?"  
  
Giovanni frowned; he hadn't called for anyone to meet him in his office, and his employee looked nervous, which undoubtedly meant that someone had fouled up down below. He folded his hands on his desk and braced himself for the worst. "What is it?"  
  
"Ahh… we just got an urgent call from Byron in the holding room…"  
  
The grunt's boss waited while he hesitated, stretching the collar of his uniform. "Yes? What is it?" Giovanni said impatiently.  
  
"Well, I don't know sir. He shouted something about a break-in, but then he cut off; no one in the room is responding."  
  
Yes, it was pretty bad, but Giovanni wasn't worried yet—not by far. As far as he knew, no one on the outside even knew where the new headquarters had been built. A break-in seemed to him highly unlikely. "Did you send someone up to check?"  
  
"No, sir… you need pretty high clearance to get in there, so we weren't absolutely sure if you—"  
  
"What about the cameras? Did they catch anything?" Giovanni interrupted.  
  
"Well…" the man cleared his throat and adjusted his collar again, making Giovanni more and more impatient. "Not really, sir. The camera in that room is out, but I talked to security and they—"  
  
Before the grunt could finish, the door slammed open and a watchman burst through, dressed in normal street clothes, unlike the other employees. "Sir, there's been a security breach in the lab!"  
  
Now Giovanni stood up. "What?"  
  
"You better have a look at this." The watchman ran out. Giovanni rose to follow.  
  
In the security room, two Rocket watchmen crowded around one of the many cameras set up on a desk lined with three chairs. When Giovanni entered the room, they moved aside eagerly to allow him a look.  
  
Peering at the black-and-white screen, Giovanni was met with a full panoramic view of the lab. He could clearly see the man in the white lab coat sprawled out on the floor. A woman in a long jacket crouched beside him—rummaging through his clothes, it looked like. The camera followed her as she locked the door with the scientist's keys. She paused in front of the camera, gazing into it with a look of infuriating cool on her face. Giovanni leaned closer, gripping the back of the chair in front of him tightly. The woman on the screen pointed a gun straight into the camera, and snow filled the screen.  
  
"I'll send someone down there right away, Boss," the grunt said earnestly. "They'll take care of her."  
  
The grunt was halfway to the door when Giovanni stopped him. "Send at least three men. And have the elevator sealed off and the fire escapes and emergency exits blocked."  
  
The grunt's eyes widened. "But sir…"  
  
"Don't waste time!" Giovanni roared. "The longer you stand there, the more time she has to escape!"  
  
"Yessir!" the man yelped, barreling out of the room.  
  
Giovanni glared at the snowy screen and spoke through his teeth to the watchmen. "Keep a sharp eye on these cameras. If she shows up anywhere else, radio the others." The watchmen nodded.  
  
An eerie smile curved Giovanni's lips. Not many people caused him as much trouble as this one. She'd had the element of surprise the first time, granted, but security was much better now. She wouldn't cost him another rare Pokémon. Not, at least, without taking on his entire army.  
  
Giovanni strode out of the security room and returned to his office desk, settling his hands calmly in his lap. The situation was unsettling, of course—he began to think maybe he should've purchased the door alarms after all—but the odds were greatly in his favor, and he had his enemy cornered. Ms. Falcon, he thought, was in for the fight of her life. 


	7. Jelly Magic

CHAPTER 7—JELLY MAGIC  
  
The compound where Team Rocket imprisoned their most dangerous captives lacked guards. Instead, a five-foot fence strung with alternating strands of barbed wire and smooth wire surrounded the entire area. It kept the Pokémon from escaping and robbers from intruding, as the smooth wire delivered an electric shock when touched.  
  
What he was about to do was somewhat less than inconspicuous, so Logan carefully checked the entire area before he reached for his Pokéball. Someone might still be able to spot him from the building 50 yards away—it was very dark, but there were no trees. However, there was nothing much Logan could do about that. Anyway, he thought, he had better get started. If Rasha and Falcon had already caused some mayhem inside the building the chances of his being spotted were very low, but a rogue watchman that happened to notice a lot of movement in the dark could radio for help in seconds. And that, Logan thought, would be the end of that.  
  
"Okay, Opal," Logan whispered, releasing his magnificent Onix. "Use your horn to cut through this wire."  
  
Opal rumbled softly in her throat. She arched her long neck and carefully moved the stone horn on her head beneath the bottom row of wire. Opal then raised her head, the boulders that made up her body creaking as she strained against the wires' resistance. Then they gave with a mighty twang; Opal's head flew skyward as sparks flew, hissing and crackling, to the grass.  
  
"Good," Logan whispered, withdrawing Opal. He stepped hesitantly over the ruined wires and began to walk across the treeless plain. From the air, Logan realized, it would've actually been quite easy to spot in the middle of the forest. On the other side of the cleared space, Logan could see the silhouettes of three long, low barns. During the day, only Pokémon that the electric fence couldn't stop—rock-, ground-, and flying- types—were kept inside. At night, though, all creatures were penned. If Isaiah was in this area, he would be inside one of the barns right now.  
  
Walking toward the barns, Logan passed an enormous swimming pool. Basically a deep concrete pit, the pool measured about 200 yards by 200 yards. Its bottom lay more than twenty feet away; Logan also saw another electrified fence encircling the entire thing. However, nothing stirred inside the pool and, wondering if it was empty, Logan wandered over to the fence and looked in. At first he saw nothing—not even the bottom of the pool, it was so deep—but then he thought he saw a sinewy shape writhing beneath the waves, growing bigger…  
  
Logan yelped and fell backward as the creature's head broke the water—a dark, yawning maw ringed with glistening white teeth. For a moment, the Gyarados regarded Logan's small form with its slit-pupil eye. Then, with a long, low wail, it slipped back beneath the surface with nary a ripple.  
  
Getting control of his legs again, Logan left the pool quickly and approached the row of barns. They were steel-sided structures with pointed tin roofs covered with sod and tree branches. A heavy lock hung from the door. Once again, Logan picked the lock with his trusty paperclip and entered the dark barn.  
  
Despite the small windows that lined the barn's back wall, Logan could see nothing but dark shapes. The sound of heavy, labored breathing filled the air, mingling with the smells of hay and animal wastes. Nervous, Logan freed Electra, who lit the room instantly with her Flash attack. Logan's heart quivered as a sleeping Rhyhorn awoke with a roar; in the adjacent stalls, he heard the cries of other Pokémon the light had disturbed. The Rhyhorn lunged forward and Logan leaped back as if to run, but the Rhyhorn jerked to a stop before it had gone a foot. When he looked at the Pokémon more closely, he saw that an iron collar had been fastened around its thick neck. A heavy chain connected the collar to a metal pole in the back of the stall.  
  
Logan felt bad, but resolved to ignore the conditions until he found or didn't find Isaiah. He and Electra walked up and down the row of stalls twice. All the Pokémon they saw were large rock-types—Rhyhorns and Rhydons, Gravelers, even an Onix that could barely fit its coils inside the narrow accommodations. Logan left the barn, deeply inhaling the fresh night air before he moved on to the next structure.  
  
  
  
Falcon pushed the white door open and fumbled for a light switch. Glaring fluorescent lights flickered into life above her head, illuminating the panes of glass that lined three sides of the narrow room she'd entered. The radio at her belt came alive with static-distorted voices, which Falcon took to mean she'd have company soon. She just wanted to have a good look at this room before she left.  
  
Abra began to wriggle in her arms; Falcon set him down and let him walk around on his own. Stepping further into the room, she peered into a cage on the middle row of the room's right-hand wall. Slumped against the back corner lay a gently quivering, amorphous blob—a Ditto. Its skin looked discolored—an strange gray-purple rather than the glowing pink of a normal Pokémon—but proved it was still in good spirits as it pressed itself against the glass and smiled at Falcon with its cartoony little face.  
  
"Abraaa," Abra hissed softly, placing his three-fingered hands against a cage on the bottom row. His wise, crescent eyes closed thoughtfully as he spoke mind-to-mind with the creature inside. Falcon leaned down and looked; another Ditto. In fact, every cage in the room held a Ditto, each one a different size and each with its own unique shade of pink or purple.  
  
What's going on? Falcon mused. Dittos… what could Team Rocket want with so many Dittos? What kind of experimentation are they conducting?  
  
Abra stiffened, and Falcon too heard the footsteps racing down the hall. Falcon looked sadly at the happy little face smushed against the glass, wishing there was something she could—  
  
Quite suddenly, Falcon noticed the ominous hum in the air. She covered her face just in time as the windows shattered. A hail of glass cascaded down; the beads struck Falcon but leaped from Abra's psychic aura like fleas.  
  
With a series of soft plops, Dittos rolled out of their prisons, unaffected by the broken glass on the floor, and moved toward their new heroes. Falcon felt cool, jelly-like bodies rolling up her pant legs. She shivered as she felt one ooze down the back of her neck.  
  
The door to the lab rattled on its hinges as Falcon's adversaries began to kick it in. She looked down at Abra, who wandered over with Dittos draped over his head and shoulders. She gently lifted her Pokémon. The thrum filled her ears again with a much more gradual crescendo than before. Another kick shook the door. Falcon leaned her face against Abra's head and felt the Dittos' cold flesh against her cheek as the room disappeared.  
  
  
  
Rasha walked through the holding room in a stooped-over position, looking through the bottom row of cages for the second time. Cages lined every space of the room but a pathway from the door to the fire escape, and so far Isaiah had been in none of them. Having to bend down put her in a vulnerable position. She glanced nervously back at the Rockets who slept on the floor. By Rasha's watch, an unbelievably slow ten minutes had passed, and still Byron and his partner showed no signs of life. Zelda stood watch over them while Rasha searched for Logan's Zapdos. Houndour also roamed the room, sniffing madly at the cages.  
  
The back of Rasha's neck began to prickle. She turned her head and Falcon suddenly appeared out of thin air, her Abra in her arms. Both of them were covered in blobs of pink and purple jelly.  
  
"Isaiah's not in the lab," Falcon said. "Rockets are heading down there right now. Any luck?"  
  
Rasha pointed a finger at a happy-faced little blob on Falcon's head. "Is that a Ditto?" she asked.  
  
Falcon nodded. "They're all that was in the lab."  
  
"Well, I haven't found Isaiah, either. There're so many cages in here, I haven't even seem them all yet. Can you believe how crammed this room is?"  
  
Falcon shook her head. "Well, let's keep looking. I don't know how long it'll be before reinforcements get here. We better hurry." Falcon set Abra down and began inspecting the cages as well.  
  
Suddenly, a glass capsule on top of a row four cages high caught Rasha's eye. She had to get up on her tiptoes to reach it. It tilted sideways as she took it down, and a muffled screech came from inside. "I found him!" Rasha exulted. Falcon hurried over to look. Sure enough, a tiny ball of yellow feathers huddled on the capsule's bottom. Seeing Rasha and Falcon's familiar faces, he stretched his head up and whistled happily.  
  
"Don't worry, Isaiah, we'll get you out of here." Rasha tried to twist the top off the capsule; it stuck tight.  
  
Falcon walked over to Abra and picked him up, carrying him back over to Isaiah. "Abra, do you think you have enough energy for one more psychic attack?" she asked the Pokémon aloud. "I know you're a little drained after rescuing the Dittos, but just try once more and then you can rest." Abra nodded.  
  
Rasha set the capsule down in the middle of the floor and backed away. Abra approached it and laid his paws on the glass. Psychic energy buzzed in the air, then diminished to a dead silence. At first, Falcon thought Abra's strength had given. Then all at once, a noise like a gunshot went off, and the capsule's top broke open.  
  
Rasha reached in and pulled Isaiah out, scratching her arm on the hole's jagged edges, while Falcon returned the exhausted Abra to his Pokéball.  
  
A knock came to the door just then. Rasha and Falcon froze, perfectly silent.  
  
"Hello? Byron, Natasha, are you in there?" The Rocket knocked again. They heard him mutter to his comrades, "They're not there. Break it down."  
  
BANG! The door shook violently as the Rockets struck it again and again. Quickly and quietly, Rasha and Falcon ran to the fire escape, the frightened Dittos crawling up into their clothes as they went. Pichu scooted down inside Falcon's jacket and buried his face in her neck. Falcon yanked the window open—there wasn't really any point in being stealthy now, anyway—and she and Rasha stuck their heads out. Down at the bottom of the fire escape, five Rocket guards looked up at them.  
  
The girls pulled their heads in and slammed the window. Each deafening kick to the door rang off the holding room's walls. Rasha and Falcon looked at each other with mutual fear. They couldn't teleport out, and now their only escape was blocked. In minutes, the Rockets would swarm in on them.  
  
BANG! One kick closer to getting in. BANG! BANG! BANG!  
  
  
  
Logan backed fearfully away from the roaring, angry Kangaskhan until he remembered all the Pokémon in here were chained into their stalls. Still, he made sure to stay at least three feet out of her chain's limit. The Pokémon roared angrily, churning the earth with her tree-thick clawed feet. Only when she lay back down did Logan dare venture farther into the shed. He looked up and down the stalls again—two more Kangaskhan, a Fearow, two Tauros. No baby Zapdos.  
  
Logan left the shed, suddenly sure he was wasting his time here. Isaiah may have been a Zapdos, but he was just a baby. He doubted Team Rocket was nervous enough about him to chain him up in a metal shed with monsters like these. He looked back toward the Rocket building and saw, to his dismay, the frenzied dance of guards' flashlights. Falcon and Rasha could be in trouble back there, he thought. Maybe he should give up the search here as futile and go back for them. Perhaps, he thought, one of them had already found Isaiah. He could only hope.  
  
As he closed the shed's door, Logan heard a low, rumbling wail from the direction of the pool. He shuddered, reliving the image of the Gyarados' head busting through the water's surface. Even with the electrified fence, he didn't like having the dragon Pokémon so near to him. Then Logan's ears picked up another sound—the sound of feet shuffling through the coarse grass.  
  
Logan whirled around. Another man stood before him, his hair hanging over his eyes, his unzipped leather jacket drifting about his waist.  
  
"Seems you decided to come back after all," the man said, his teeth flashing in a cruel smile. "I knew you and I would see each other again."  
  
Logan felt his mouth tighten. Electra moved forward, her glowing body casting a faint light on the man's face. "Gordon," he said. "Just out of curiosity, how did you know to come look for me here? Or have you just been searching the entire compound for me?"  
  
"I hardly needed to," Gordon said, his brown eyes flashing beneath overhanging locks of hair. "Simple process of elimination. And since the holding room and the lab were already covered…" Gordon's grin broadened, "…I just figured someone had to be out here."  
  
"How clever of you," Logan said pleasantly. "No time for chatting with old friends, though." He brushed past Gordon and began walking briskly across the grass.  
  
"Hold it, Matthews," Gordon called.  
  
Logan turned around. "Yes?"  
  
"Nothing personal," Gordon said. "But I worked very, very hard to set up that heist. I can't let you back in there."  
  
Logan's hand knotted around a Pokéball. "Well, then we have a problem, don't we?" he growled, detaching it from his belt.  
  
Gordon removed a Pokéball from his belt. Logan faced him confidently—he had always been the better trainer. Perhaps that was why Gordon hated him so.  
  
"Voltorb!" Gordon cried, breaking the grand pause as he threw his Pokéball.  
  
Logan reacted, his arm snapping forward. Weaver spilled out of his Pokéball, mandibles clicking, to face Gordon's round electric Pokémon.  
  
"Weaver, Agility," Logan said, relying on his experience battling Gordon in the past. Voltorb moved quickly and had the ability to paralyze, but it didn't have a lot of stamina. If he could make it waste its electrical energy, it would be an easy win.  
  
Gordon's reacted in perfect accordance to Logan's plan, too. "Voltorb, Thunderwave!" The round Pokémon spun furiously, throwing electricity here and there, aiming for the tiny six-legged whirlwind that blazed around and around it. It fired six times in succession before coming to a stop.  
  
"Poison Sting!" Logan ordered calmly. Weaver fired a barrage of needles at Voltorb—hopefully, Logan thought, poisoning him and speeding the battle along. He was anxious to get back to the building and see how Rasha and Falcon fared.  
  
"Rapid Spin, now!" Gordon said.  
  
Voltorb shook off the Poison Sting attack and began to spin furiously. Weaver hopped to the side and fired at Voltorb's back when it zoomed by. The needles knocked Voltorb off its course; it spun out of control and came to rest on its side.  
  
"Now, use a Giga Drain to finish!" Logan said.  
  
Weaver raced forward and pierced Voltorb's enamel-hard shell with his mandibles. Green light flashed in the darkness. Weaver pulled away; Voltorb fainted.  
  
"Return!" Gordon spat. "I see you haven't shirked on your training, Logan."  
  
"Of course not. My Pokémon are my family… a concept a lowlife such as yourself could never hope to understand."  
  
"You hypocrite," Gordon retorted. "You may be stronger than me, but I remain loyal to the family that puts food on my plate… a concept a traitor such as yourself could never hope to understand."  
  
"What you call family is no more than a syndicate of greedy bastards working together for their own purposes," Logan said. "But I'm through wasting my breath on you. Goodbye."  
  
He walked away from Gordon, his stride hasty and anxious as he hurried toward the building surrounded by prowling guards. Stay hidden, Rasha, he thought. For Gods' sake, stay—  
  
The earth shook and Logan felt steamy breath on his legs. A rocky behemoth crouched behind him, pawing the earth with legs whose bones were harder than steel. It lowered its head into a charge position, forcing Logan to freeze.  
  
"No… so sorry, Logan, but I just can't let you go," Gordon said. "I just worked too damn hard for this to let a treacherous son of a bitch take everything away from me."  
  
Logan felt his face burning with rage; he had to fight to keep his trembling arms from reaching for the seizure rifle. "Bastard," he snarled. "That's not even your Pokémon."  
  
"It is, because it's my family's Pokémon," Gordon snarled. "Bet you wish you were still a part of us."  
  
  
  
Falcon struck the first man in the doorway in the stomach and flung him into the woman behind him. Rasha's Houndour tore viciously at a second man's leg while Rasha struck him across the face. Falcon charged around the corner and dashed madly down the hall, her arms wrapped tight around the little Zapdos, while Rasha ran in the opposite direction.  
  
Someone came out of a doorway. Falcon blew past him, knocking him into the wall as she ran. The man gave chase, shouting into his radio as he ran. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a male and female Rocket a yard behind him.  
  
Falcon skidded around a corner. There were elevators, but they'd take too much time. She saw rails down at the very end of the corridor, indicating a stairway. She dashed madly toward them, her cargo pressed tightly against her chest.  
  
The man from the doorway charged straight into her and down they went. She flailed with her left elbow, holding Isaiah close with her right hand. A lucky shot found his eye. By now, the other two had found her. The man she'd hit and the woman tried to restrain her arms while the other man groped her, trying to locate Isaiah. She kicked hard and low; he went down and she ripped her arms out of the others' grip. She dashed madly down the stairs, but her pursuers didn't follow. As she half-fell, half- ran down to the first floor, she heard the Zapdos' shrill screams echoing behind her.  
  
  
  
The Rhyhorn charged furiously, throwing chunks of earth out behind it like a bulldozer. Opal met it head-on with a Tackle; the two ground their heads together fiercely, roaring and snarling to wake the dead.  
  
"Go to hell," Logan snarled at Gordon. "And take your family with you."  
  
"Fury Attack," Gordon ordered tersely.  
  
The Rhyhorn broke contact with Opal's head; the Onix's neck shot forward like a jack-in-the-box. Rhyhorn leaped at Opal, bashing into her with its sharp horn. It struck her again and again, gouging her neck and head while she roared in pain.  
  
"Opal, use Harden! Get up and out of its range!" Logan cried. Opal's body flashed. Slowly, swaying like a cattail in the wind, she began to lift her head.  
  
"Horn Drill!" Gordon ordered.  
  
A high whine pierced Logan's ears—was the Rhyhorn's horn spinning?—as Rhyhorn charged madly, moving insanely fast for something so huge and heavy. Opal lay, large and helpless, in its path. Rhyhorn struck with the force of a tank. Chips of rock flew into Logan's face as it bored into her.  
  
"Return!" Logan screamed as Opal's graceful neck began to sink, and the defeated Onix disappeared.  
  
"Rai," Electra murmured. Logan shook his head at her. Electra could only defeat Rhyhorn if the rock Pokémon happened to open its mouth. He didn't want to take that risk, especially after witnessing that horrible Horn Drill attack. Weaver, he thought, could out-maneuver Rhyhorn and perhaps blind it with String Shot. He would try that.  
  
"Go, Weaver! Use Agility, and when you get an opening aim a String Shot at Rhyhorn's eyes!"  
  
"Stomp, now!" cried Gordon.  
  
Weaver wove in and out of Rhyhorn's thundering hooves. Logan felt sick to his stomach, watching the Ariados' soft red body darting in and out of that avalanche. At last, Weaver managed to back up in front of Rhyhorn and attack. A flurry of stringy ropes covered Rhyhorn's face. The Rhyhorn roared and thrashed, one eye plastered completely shut and the other obstructed by overhanging strands. It shook its head furiously, but did no more than to whip the strings around, spattering both Pokémon trainers with white flecks.  
  
"Okay, Weaver," Logan said coldly. "Try your Giga Drain now, but be careful!"  
  
Weaver scuttled around to the panicked Rhyhorn's back. He bit at its rear hoof, trying to permeate Rhyhorn's rocky skin while Rhyhorn stomped and roared. At last, Weaver's bite struck a nerve. The Rhyhorn's roar rose to a scream. It kicked its leg wildly, striking Weaver in the head and knocking him instantly unconscious. He flew through the air, useless legs spinning in a bunch behind him, and struck the ground with a thud.  
  
"Return!" Logan snarled.  
  
Electra leaped forward, cheeks blazing. The Rhyhorn seemed to regain control of itself; it settled down onto all fours and studied Electra with its sole functioning eye. Then it charged, a four-legged stampede, churning the earth into froth. It raised its head, throwing all its power into the charge, and as it did so its triangular head split wide into a roar, and at that moment Electra freed the electricity that had built to a climax in her body. Once again the Rhyhorn's roar soared upward in pitch; its eyes rolled white in its head as its feet betrayed it, splaying out from under its massive, hurtling body as momentum carried it forward and into Electra like a train wreck. The Raichu's frail orange body was swallowed in a discharge of grass and mud and rock-flesh. At last, all was silent.  
  
Gordon stood, mouth agape in the same death-loll as the Rhyhorn's. Logan cried out his Pokémon's name, "Electra!" as he rushed forward, sick with horror. He dug through the churned-up ground beneath the fallen Rhyhorn's head and drug out Electra's beaten, mud-soaked body. He wrapped his arms around her limp form and felt her heart throbbing against his forearm. A feeling of terror melded with cold relief swept over Logan like a wave.  
  
Then there came a gasp—a cumbersome, heavy sound like the puff of a steam engine. The Rhyhorn's leg kicked, scraping at the earth until it found a grip. It swayed to its feet, huffing madly, a small, rising, mud- covered hill. Its one blood-red eye blinked away the black earth, shining like pearl and ruby out of the grime.  
  
The earth shook, and the creature was charging him, swaying as it ran but on course. Slow to grasp the concept, Logan could never have run in time. In those moments of startling clarity before the impact he screamed out to Gordon, shouting for him to stop the monster's rampage, and then he flew, breathless, his heart discontinuing its rhythm until he returned to earth. The creature continued over him—so large it was that all feet flew past him but one, which came down on his left thigh with a crunch—the sound so much worse than the feeling at that moment—that seemed final, but in fact was only the beginning of agony. Not until the creature had fully passed did he realize the full extent of it, and then he felt he would pass out from the pain, his arms constricting defensively around Electra's body. Gordon's shadow loomed over him and his wide, triumphant eyes glowed malevolently, sharply in contrast to the shadows manifested on his face. The earth began to shake, and Logan knew Rhyhorn had doubled back. Gordon's hideous, shadow-distorted face swam in front of him.  
  
And then, the wind began to blow… a cool, cleansing wind that came from the North. An unearthly roar accompanied it; the wind doubled in strength, whipping Logan's hair into his eyes, and then there came a roar like rushing water, drowning out the Rhyhorn's scream.  
  
Logan opened his eyes to the sky in time to see the lithe blue body, its white markings shining brighter than the stars, soaring over his head, and he felt such a tranquil, stilling awe settle into him that the pain in his crushed thigh was momentarily forgotten.  
  
Suicune uttered a low growl. Gordon, the triumph cast from his eyes, backed away in fear. "It… can't be," he whispered.  
  
A hissing sort of gunshot rang out just then; Gordon's face convulsed and he yelped in surprise as a condensed bolt of light struck him in the neck. Milky white filled his eyes as he crashed to earth.  
  
"A bit hasty, Damon," a silky female voice behind him said.  
  
"Won't kill th' bastard… jus' knock him out," another voice, coarser and male, replied. "Don't do to have witnesses. Usin' a Pokémon like that around Rockets…"  
  
"I know." Suicune disappeared into his Pokéball, and then Falcon knelt next to Logan. "Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
Logan nodded stiffly. "I think my leg could be broken." Then he added, "What's going on?"  
  
"The Rockets are onto us. They're swarming the building like ants," Falcon said gravely. "We have to go back for Rasha."  
  
Logan's heart fluttered. "Is she okay?"  
  
"I don't want to worry you, but she's sorely outnumbered." Turning to her companion, who still stood back where Logan couldn't see him, she said, "Damon, bring the car around, okay?"  
  
"I'll hafta see if I can git through that fence," Damon said, jogging off. "Sit tight!"  
  
  
  
Giovanni rose eagerly as the door to his office opened. Minutes earlier, two Rocket teams had broken into the holding room. Mirkana Falcon, he was disappointed to learn, had escaped. However, according to Gregory Black—who was in for a big promotion, Giovanni thought, along with George Kerrigan, Rachel Forman, and Sandra Brady—radioed in with the news that the Zapdos had been reclaimed. Now the four stepped into his office, sure enough, grasping a screaming bundle of yellow feathers.  
  
"Excellent, excellent!" Giovanni praised his beaming subordinate. "Well done, all of you!"  
  
"Thank you, sir," Black replied.  
  
"Thanks to you, we have not lost another legendary Pokémon," Giovanni replied. "I'm sure you can all be expecting promotions for this display of professionalism in a time of crisis." He paused for the chorus of pleased exclamations from the group. "However," he said. "I'm interested to know where the esteemed Ms. Falcon is now?"  
  
Rachel Forman spoke up. "She fled down the east staircase, sir. After that, there were no more reports of her."  
  
Giovanni nodded, peeved not for the first time at Falcon's annoyingly successful ways of getting in and out of buildings. Had she just run out the front door? He'd have to have a long talk with those guards once all this fuss was over with.  
  
"But at any rate, sir, we managed to take back the Pokémon before she gave us the slip," Black said, his boyish face twisting into a cheeky sort of grin that Giovanni found irritating. "We nabbed the little guy and she ran off without even knowing it." He held the squirming Pokémon up for Giovanni to see.  
  
Giovanni nodded. "Yes, and I suppose that's what's impor—"  
  
He had to stop short, because all of a sudden the Zapdos began to melt in Black's hands. The young Rocket looked confused at Giovanni's startled expression. Then all of a sudden the liquefying yellow mass slipped through his hands like Jell-O, landing on the floor with a sickening plop as it continued to lose shape. Its orange beak disappeared, becoming a simple little face that smiled up at Giovanni. Black shouted and stooped to grab the creature, but it slipped under his hands and, moving absurdly quickly, squeezed through the gap beneath the door.  
  
The four Rockets stared at the door with stupefied expressions. Then they turned back to the livid Giovanni.  
  
"FOOLS!" he roared, making them all cringe like whipped dogs. "Can't you even tell a Zapdos from a Ditto?!"  
  
The Rockets looked at one another, not daring to answer.  
  
"Get out!" Giovanni roared. "Find Mirkana Falcon and the other intruders, and bring me the real Zapdos chick! And make absolutely sure it's the real one, or you'll be in a world of hurt!"  
  
With a collective squeak of "Yes, sir!" the four Rockets scuttled out of the room.  
  
  
  
Flashlights beamed obtrusively out of the black-canvas background, blinding Rasha as she hurtled forward. She stopped and raised her hand. Seeing the guards beneath what could have been miniature suns, they seemed so bright, Rasha turned to go back the way she came. However, the guards that had chased her into this bunch closed in from behind. Rasha began to feel trapped and panicky. While they formed a semi-circle around her, keeping their blinding lights on her face, she snapped out her seizure rifle and aimed it at the line of Rockets. "Don't move!" she screamed. She intended to sound intimidating, but her voice emerged dismayingly shrill. The unimpressed men and women pressed in closer.  
  
Rasha wrapped her forearm tighter around her middle, supporting the real Isaiah, who hid inside her shirt. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could Pokéballs in the grips of many Rockets.  
  
A man grabbed her roughly by the arm as she stood stupidly, unable to figure a way out. "Put your hands up where we can see them," he ordered. Frightened, Rasha whirled around and struck him by accident with the weapon. He shouted in pain and clutched his nose; the rest of his entourage pressed in closer, and another set of hands closed around her other arm. She struggled furiously as they swarmed over her, trying to grab for her Pokéballs. One of her flailing hands managed to knock one free. It opened. A woman screamed in pain as Bayleef flogged her with her vines. While the rest were distracted, she shook free and barreled through the crowd. The roar of a mob followed her and soon inhuman cries of Pokémon joined them. The cold night air felt sharp in Rasha's lungs as she ran; she held Isaiah firmly, her heart and mind racing. A dark wall of trees danced in front of her. She could make it into the trees and escape. She'd hide until morning; no one would find her in the dark and… why suddenly did her legs feel so weak?  
  
Rasha fell, somehow thinking to roll to her side so as not to crush Isaiah. But she couldn't get up again. Her muscles felt like broken rubber bands. She heard a Weepinbell's voice behind her and realized it had probably used Stun Spore on her. Tears of frustration came to her eyes as Logan's picture danced before her eyes. She'd failed him… utterly failed him. After everything, it would end here outside the Team Rocket building. A wall of hands pressed in on her body; an unstoppable injustice that she couldn't fight in any way. She felt helpless… useless… and alone.  
  
All of a sudden, a bright light shone in her eyes. Something landed in the dirt—a stone? she thought. A man screamed into her ear and she felt a droplet hit her cheek. Another fell in the dirt where she could see it… blood.  
  
The next few minutes, when she later recalled them, were nothing but a blur. She heard a sound like a rain of arrows and was aware of Isaiah's squirming against her. Hands clawed at her clothes, and then the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her against her cheek. The man carrying her practically shoved her through a car door before leaping into the driver's seat himself; Rasha's head bumped against a seat as the car lurched forward like a stung horse. "What… what's going on?" she croaked at last.  
  
"Rasha…" she heard a familiar voice say. She looked into the back of the car and saw Logan stretched out across the back seat, one leg supported by a rolled-up blue jacket.  
  
"Logan!" she said, trying to sit up before she remembered the Stun Spore. Then she felt arms pulling her upward.  
  
"Close your eyes," Falcon ordered, aiming a tiny aerosol can at her. Rasha obeyed and Falcon proceeded to spray a fine mist over her whole body. While she worked, she said, "This is Paralyze Heal. We saw a Weepinbell attack you."  
  
"Yeah," Rasha said. The muscles in her face already felt stronger. Isaiah squirmed inside her shirt when Falcon sprayed him, reminding her that he was there. When the strength returned to her arms, she pulled him out and gave him to Logan.  
  
"Isaiah!" Logan gasped, taking the little Zapdos in his arms. He looked at Rasha with an expression of eternal gratitude. "Thank you, Rasha."  
  
Rasha smiled at him. "What happened to your leg?" she asked.  
  
"A Rhyhorn," he replied with a grimace.  
  
Rasha climbed—a bit shakily on her Stun Spore-weakened limbs—into the backseat. She lifted Logan's head and sat in the seat where it had been, laying him back down in her lap. Logan couldn't have kept her from doing it even if he'd wanted to. The warmth of Rasha's body permeated his clammy skin. Isaiah's soft body curled up against his neck. He closed his eyes and relaxed, ignoring the speeding car's jerks and bounces and even the pain they brought to his broken leg.  
  
While Logan rested, Rasha looked up and happened to catch a glance at the driver's face in the rearview. "Hey!" she gasped in shock.  
  
"What is it?" Falcon asked, turning around.  
  
Rasha pointed in disbelief. "I recognize you!" she said. "You're the guy from the Pokémart!"  
  
"What?" Logan opened his eyes and raised his head, studying the thin- faced man with his ratty shadow of a mustache.  
  
"Come to think of it, there's something else familiar about you, too," Rasha thought out loud.  
  
The man Falcon called Damon laughed. "To tell you the truth, Miss Rasha, I've been keepin' an eye on you for some time now," he confessed.  
  
His accent rang a bell in Rasha's mind. She remembered that fateful day in the Pokémon Center, when she had waited for Logan in the waiting room. "Joel!" she said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Joel?" Logan inquired. "Do you know him, Rasha?"  
  
Falcon cut in before Rasha could reply. "His name is Damon, and he's a friend of mine. He isn't a thief or a spy—I asked him to keep an eye on you."  
  
"You, Falcon?" Rasha exclaimed. "But why—"  
  
"Uh-oh…" Damon adjusted the review mirror and then Rasha saw the reflection of his eyes staring at her. "I'll explain everthing later. Right now, looks as if we're bein' followed."  
  
Rasha jerked her head around. A line of single headlights danced in a line behind the car. As soon as she saw them, Rasha could faintly hear the drone of motorcycle engines. The bikes' cycloptic headlights grew brighter and brighter, until she could see the Rockets' faces in the splash of the car's rear lights. They swarmed the car, inching steadily up along its sides like jackals surrounding a wildebeest.  
  
"Buckle up," Damon gritted.  
  
Too late in reacting, Rasha couldn't secure her seatbelt before Damon floored the car. She flew forward, her head bashing into the seat in front of her. Pain shot into her neck. She recovered and snapped her seatbelt on with shaking hands.  
  
The Rockets' bikes fell behind and then began matching pace, dancing in a horribly dangerous fashion around the car. Damon drove blindly, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him. Rockets near the car's sides drew stun weapons and beat the vehicle with them. Damon swerved, trying to shake them. The car's side dinged a Rocket that got too close; he flew out of control and rolled end over end into the line of trees.  
  
Logan couldn't see what was going on from his position; he shivered with Isaiah pressed against his chest, feeling exactly as Isaiah looked—a small, helpless, quaking ball of terror. His face scrunched up into knots of pain as his leg jarred against the car's door. Blood ran over his lip as his teeth involuntarily dug into it.  
  
A gunshot smash rang out. One of the car's front headlights went dark. Damon swore madly, his face contorted and livid. The vehicle veered from side to side; its bumper struck another bike's fender, sending him tumbling off the road, and when Damon looked up he saw the car's one good eye highlighting the curve in the road. He slammed the wheel to the side. Caterwauls rose from without and within the vehicle; a woman's head with rolling eyes struck the window briefly, eliciting screams from the passengers, and disappeared in a grotesque, lolling fall. The car rose onto two wheels and skidded around the corner, its balance an instant failure at that speed. A desperate reflex seized Logan and he rolled over, covering Isaiah with his body as the horizon spun a three-sixty outside the window. Pain shot through his head and a typhoon of screaming metal surrounded him.  
  
Silence came slowly and as a shock. Like a rebooting computer, Logan's mind ever so slowly pieced together the scene. The pain in his leg came into focus and rose to a sickening crescendo that threatened to overwhelm him. Rasha's hair swayed down into his face; he looked up to see her still secure in her seatbelt, still sitting in her seat. His heart pounded wildly. How many of them had survived? Isaiah wailed miserably, drawing blood from his arms as he struggled in wild fright.  
  
The car's left window exploded just then. Glass flew onto Logan through the curtain of Rasha's hair; he heard her gasp of fright. An arm entered the gaping hole. Its gruesome hand—Logan didn't think of it as a human appendage, just as a hand with its own mind and will—clamped around Isaiah like a vice. Logan, impervious to panic in his state of shock and agony and confusion, watched with dim, uncomprehending eyes. Through the mist, he heard a sharp crackle and what he later realized was a human howl of pain, and Isaiah dropped back onto his chest. Logan's traumatized mind was at last overwhelmed, and he shut down.  
  
  
  
It took Rasha's mind several minutes to realize what had happened. At first, all she could perceive were bright lights shining through the cars windshield and a horrible, continuous wail that made her temples throb. However, she was unable to identify either. Presently she realized she hung upside down from the ceiling, her seat belt holding her in place. Her position offered her a view of the front seat. She could see Falcon hanging lifelessly, her back resting against the back of the seat and her legs dangling freely so that she had almost folded in half. Damon's condition seemed just as uncertain, but before she had worried long a hand shattered the window near her head. Pieces of glass gouged her face—she prayed they would miss her eyes—and then she heard a sharp crackle and a scream. When the moment had passed for several seconds, she became aware of voices outside. Opening her eyes slowly—her head and neck both caused her great pain, and the lights and noise only magnified it—she saw a face peering through the window. She stared, allowing her mind to absorb information. The woman she saw had blue hair and wore a blue uniform. All of a sudden her mind realized that the awful noise was the police car's sirens.  
  
"Ma'am, are you all right?" the young officer asked in a concerned tone.  
  
Afraid to nod, Rasha groggily said, "Yes."  
  
"Don't worry! We'll get you out of there in a second!" The officer pulled up a bullhorn and shouted, in a voice that made Rasha cringe, for someone to call the paramedics.  
  
The next sequence of events blended together in an unintelligible jumble. The paramedics somehow got everyone out of the car. No one had died; Falcon and Logan were unconscious and would be taken to the hospital. Something the young female officer said finally caught Rasha's ear:  
  
"This man is dressed in a Team Rocket uniform," she said. "Could these four have been involved with the others we arrested?"  
  
"Logan wasn't involved," Rasha said. The officer didn't hear her. She repeated herself more loudly and this time caught the officer's attention.  
  
"He wasn't? What happened?" she asked.  
  
Rasha gingerly shook her head, pressing her hand against her throbbing forehead. The officer seemed to understand. "We'll discuss that when you've all been treated. Right now, though, we've got to get all of you to the hospital." Rasha surrendered, allowing the officer to lead her to the ambulance. As she stepped into the back of the enormous white car, Rasha saw the men in white wheeling Logan to the adjacent ambulance. His oxygen-masked, lacerated face held the trace of a contented smile. His left hand rested on his stomach, sheltering a small yellow creature that had happily fallen asleep curled up against his savior.  
  
  
  
All of the car's passengers suffered only superficial injuries and were quickly released from the hospital. Later, their testimony led to the arrest of the six Team Rocket members that had assaulted their car. However, the police had no luck extracting any information as the location of Team Rocket's headquarters.  
  
Giovanni was absolutely livid when he learned of his guards' incarceration, but was even more so at their failure to recover the Zapdos. Team Rocket headquarters was hell for weeks due to his horrible mood. For much of Team Rocket, prison might have been a sanctuary.  
  
So it was with trepidation that Barrett Jefferson nudged open the door to Giovanni's office. He expected a negative reaction, and was not disappointed. "What is it?" Giovanni snarled.  
  
Jefferson adjusted his glasses nervously. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir—"  
  
"Well, you are. What is it this time?" Giovanni interrupted.  
  
Jefferson cringed, his brow covered in sweat, and continued. "If you remember, sir, Gordon Biggs was admitted to the medical facility the night of the incident?" He paused, but Giovanni didn't say anything more. "Well, he's just begun talking today, and it seems what he has to say may be of inter—"  
  
"Quit wasting my time and just get to the point," Giovanni snapped, massaging his temples. "I don't have time to listen to irrelevant business, so if what you're saying isn't of importance, please leave. I have my hands full cleaning up after the mess all of you made."  
  
"Yes, sir. Anyway, Biggs said that he witnessed a legendary Pokémon during his encounter with one of the intru—"  
  
"What kind?"  
  
"He says it was a Suicune, sir. His description sounds believable, but he was hit with a seizure rifle quite close to his head and may—"  
  
"Did he say which intruder might have owned this Pokémon?" Giovanni cut in again. He had been pacing the room before, his large hands knotted behind his back, but now he sat and folded them on his desk, giving Jefferson his full attention.  
  
"He said he saw a female accompanying it, sir, but he wasn't able to identify it."  
  
Giovanni nodded and remained silent just long enough that Jefferson began to feel uncomfortable. Just when he was about to open his mouth, though, the boss spoke again. "I'll admit an investigation. Are there any unassigned teams?"  
  
"I'll check my files, sir," Jefferson replied, hurrying out of the room. After a few minutes, he returned. "Actually, we do have a team free. Trevor Heinrich and Amanda Flores. They've been with us for three mo—"  
  
"Yes, yes, yes. How's their record?" Giovanni asked.  
  
"Very good, sir, all good things. They've had—"  
  
"Good." Giovanni leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as he spoke. "Tell Heinrich and Flores they're on special assignment. They're to locate Mírkana Falcon and trail her. They're to focus their attention on obtaining the Suicune and also report any and all occurrences they deem unusual. Anything at all. Got that?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. You're dismissed."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Jefferson put his hand on the door and looked over his shoulder hesitantly before letting himself out.  
  
Jefferson stopped for a moment to breathe once outside Giovanni's office. The hall seemed deserted; it was only him and the file folder he clutched under his arm, and it seemed he had privacy to clear his thoughts. He stared back at Giovanni's office, recollecting that secret sinking feeling in his stomach when he'd listened to Biggs rambling on and on in the medical facility. He actually reached his hand out, letting the feeling clutch at him a little. Subduing the small itch in his mind, he turned away and wandered slowly down the hall, taking his time.  
  
Jefferson knew he ought to turn Matthews in—as an ex-Team Rocket member, his logic airily dictated, he posed more danger than any other outside enemy. He paused to look back the double doors again, but his feet refused to take him back. With a sigh, he leaned against the wall and looked at the patterned carpet beneath his shiny business shoes. Yeah… he should turn in Logan… he was a traitor, after all—and not only to Team Rocket. It had just about killed him to hear Logan was dead. Logan could've at least contacted him… saved him all that grief. Here was his opportunity to retaliate a little.  
  
Shaking his head, Jefferson continued walking. Nah, he thought. I can't sell Logan out like that. Getting left behind hurt, but who knew if Logan had really forgotten about him? And besides, deep down, Jefferson felt happy for his old friend. Inside the darkest reaches of their hearts, everyone hated the job. They hated it, but could never get away because it was all they had. Logan had broken that chain, and Jefferson felt as happy as he would have for a friend that had managed to kick the drinking habit—the truth, he thought, was that this business just wasn't healthy if you stayed in it too long.  
  
The best way to think about it, Jefferson decided as he paused outside of his office, was to think of Logan as being free. Free to be the Pokémon he always claimed he'd be back in high school, when their dreams of the future were all they could see it ever turning out to be. He could enter the Pokémon league, buy a house, maybe even get married someday… accomplish the dreams he and Jefferson had forgotten.  
  
Heaving a large sigh, Jefferson braced his forearm against the doorframe and leaned his head into it, allowing himself a moment of privacy. Looking down at the floor, he allowed a subdued smile to curve his lips. "Bye, Logan," he muttered. "Hope you're happy, man… wherever you are." Jefferson straightened up and walked into his office.  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
Six months of Elysian peace descended upon the quiet house nestled at Mount Iron's foot. In swell of relief that trailed in the wake of such intense events, it was surprisingly easy to commit the entire incident with Team Rocket to memory and give in to leisure. Even while Logan was confined to a wheelchair while his thigh slowly healed over a two-month period, he and Rasha found it quite easy to soak in the so often taken for granted bliss of normality. Logan continued to live with Rasha. His independence was never discussed, and once his thigh healed he began working part-time at the Pokémart to cover his medical bills. He hated the job and would come home full of complaints; Rasha grew tired of it, but secretly withheld the suggestion that he allow her to support him. In truth, the funding for Rasha's research had dried up, and her own needs were draining enough. She started a job as a waitress to make ends meet, but knew she couldn't keep it up—she was uneasy and unfulfilled, and needed to get back to work.  
  
In these six months, Logan had grown restless as well. He never said anything and she never asked for fear of the answer. But Logan's passion remained embedded in his training, and although Rasha made a fierce attempt to satisfy him through constant battles, he had only seen two gyms. It wasn't fair to him. Yet Rasha squashed that yap of conscience into the back of her mind, procrastinating in facing the truth until she could no longer stand to see her comrade drag himself home from the Pokémart each night.  
  
And at last, the inevitable day dawned, and she found herself lingering in the kitchen, bags laden with food and supplies in her hand, while Logan waited outside for her to see him off.  
  
The morning had dragged and raced at alternative intervals. Both had stretched it out as long as they could. Rasha simply couldn't fully cope with the thought of not seeing Logan again. Logan knew it, she thought. Even in the face of his greatest ambition, he seemed quiet and reluctant to set foot outside her door.  
  
As she pushed the door outward with her shoulder and emerged into the great spills of golden light outside, Rasha tried to force a furtive chuckle to herself. Well, things will be easier now, she lied. I mean, he's still rude, and lazy; he still doesn't clean up after himself, and he… She couldn't even finish. In her heart, Rasha knew that the root of everything that tumbled cyclone-like inside her skull was that she had grown fond of Logan. In fact, she'd grown much too fond of him.  
  
Logan was silent; a wooden pole—he stood still and let Rasha approach him, burdened with the bags she'd obsessively filled for him in his leaving. His eyes fell under shadow in the cavities beneath his brows, bringing to mind an endless night of staring long ago—back to when the destiny that now ripped him away had brought Logan to Rasha's home. Rasha's throat was horribly constricted, and she thought, If I just don't have to talk, I'll be all right.  
  
Logan's head dipped slightly and he eyed the four bags swinging from Rasha's forearms. "Seems like a lot," he said. His movements and words were performed slightly, as if he thought the air might shatter under normal strain today.  
  
Rasha nodded and tried to swallow despite the tightness of her throat. "Just concerned," she managed in a horrid monotone that made her shudder with distaste. His dark eyes were suddenly unbearable and she had to look at his feet. "I—"  
  
Logan lunged forward then—wildly, as if by some desperate impulse—and his mouth fused over hers in a hard kiss. Rasha sucked in her breath in surprise and fright; her jaws parted and she felt Logan's warm tongue slide over hers. The kiss softened into a caress; her eyelids fluttered shut and suddenly the setting sun's light was something warm and liquid that enveloped her cold, empty body. She seized him and held him against her, keeping him where he was, and probed her tongue into the searing cavity of his mouth. Tears spilled over her lower eyelids unheeded; they ran into the intertwined lovers' mouths, adding a flavor of sadness to the kiss. The world around them blanked—everything that had been in progress seconds before no longer existed; the universe consisted only of this beautiful fragment of warmth and desperate, yearning passion.  
  
The kiss lasted for several seconds and ended at a gradual length. Rasha remained embalmed in that glorious, passionate heat until, little by little, the evening breezes slithered between her lips and Logan's to notify her of the space that had reopened there. Her eyes reopened gradually, too, and Logan's face floated before her, lit with an inner glow of bursting joy, the blankness in his eyes banished by a wildly dancing spark. His hand lingered on her cheek, and tenderly he wiped her tears away with his thumb. Then he dropped his hand and picked up the bags, which had found their way to the ground. He shouldered them, and when he had control of them all he turned and his mouth split in an uncontrollable smile.  
  
"See you," he whispered.  
  
Rasha stood, lips slightly parted, until at last her throat moved of its own accord, "See you later."  
  
The sun lined Logan's hair in threads of gold as he walked into its glow. He never looked back, and even though Rasha was aware of it, it didn't bother her. When at last he had faded from her sight, she returned to her home with her first kiss tingling on her lips and the sound of Isaiah's happy whistles ringing in her ears.  
  
  
  
***  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, I've finally done it. I know it's taken me quite awhile, but after several months of writing I've completed my first fanfic. I for one am happy with the way it turned out, and I hope I've satisfied you as well. The ending was pretty open, I know, and I intended it to be that way—open endings leave endless possibilities for sequels, and if an idea comes to me I hope you'll read and review again.  
  
Of course, I'd like to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story. Like I said, this was my first ever attempt at fanfiction and I was very happy to receive positive feedback on it. Thank you all so much!  
  
Thanks to Pichachu—without you around to pressure me, I wouldn't have gotten it done. LOL, j/k. Thanks for all your support.  
  
A very special thanks to Adri-sama… without you, this idea probably would have never left my brain. I love ya!  
  
Thanks to any Monsoons that might be reading this, just for reading.  
  
Well, that's all I have to say for now. Thanks again to everybody, and I hope to see you again.  
  
~Mírkana Falcon~ 


End file.
